Freedom

We discussed in the prison group the difference between inmates and "civilians." We compared impulses and behaviors. One inmate said solemnly, "The difference between us and a lot of people on the street is that we got convicted and sentenced." They also made comparisons between a policeman who speeds in his black and white without the lights or siren (denoting official business) and a CO who won't let inmates smoke in a non-smoking area, while he himself is smoking; or a CO who gives an inmate a ticket for taking a carton of milk from the mess to his dorm, but who throws a dozen carton in his duffel to take home. But after agreeing that the difference is in frequency and immediacy, not in degree, we then talked of behaviors on the inside versus the outside. I recounted a story of a confrontation I had with a police officer in which I acted the role of disgruntled and almost harassed citizen, risking arrest and continuing hostility. The inmates compared that with confronting a guard who refused to do one of his duties (inspecting a letter before it was sealed), thereby making the letter late.

The inmates' point was that I could weigh the options (arrest, fine, further harassment) and decide whether to continue standing up against a bully in uniform. Freedom for me was having the option to decide. They have no easy choice. Any and every incident can lead to a "ticket" or even being put in isolation, depending on the bully himself. In effect, an inmate must learn to maintain his own self-respect and the respect of any onlookers, without the choices I have as a civilian.

Then they talked about what will happen if they get parole. A parolee cannot afford to have any kind of dialogue with any police officer, or he will be violated. Any confrontation which might result in the police being called, he has to back down and get away. I can choose to speed on the highway. My choice is based on the knowledge that one ticket will only raise my insurance, two I might lose my license. A parolee, if he is allowed to drive at all, if he speeds, it is a violation. A rolling stop may result in a return to prison. His choices are much much harsher than mine.

Now I am not rendering this conversation well, but I think it is clear that they almost fear parole, as it is so restrictive and their choices are so damaging to the ego. We managed to talk some about "managing" the way people construct their ego. We didn't use the word, but I believe Macho plays a large part in the conflicts that they faced and still face inside and on parole. The idea of maintaining self respect from the inside instead of needing reinforcement or confirmation from outside is something I myself have trouble with, and I do not face the problems they will. I asked myself as I drove home, "What made you need to confront that officer? Why did you NEED to force the officer to comply with YOUR rules?" And worse, I wondered how long I would last on parole, dealing with a parole officer, unwelcoming neighbors and the hostility of a society which wants me locked away forever?

Struggle

At our last meeting, Jim made the statement, "as soon as I hear a man say he is struggling, I know he hasn't gotten to the point that AA calls accepting one can only survive with the help of one's higher power." That brings a light to bear on what I see as a conflict. We talk a lot about an inmate (or civilian) reaching a point where he sees that he cannot go on any longer in the self-centeredness that results in criminal behavior. Yes, he must surrender to the knowledge that he is helpless alone, but there still remains a lot of work to be done, a lot of deeply embedded mental process and attitude and behavior to un-habituate, to coin a word. And that is a struggle. So the man has to relax and surrender to that knowledge, but at the same time, he must be vigilant and ready to labor to change himself.
I don't think it wise to leave the AA statement as the statement for our group. So why did I?

Sitting with Scripture

I send out a 25 word prayer every Monday for church secretaries to use for the bulletin each prepares for Sunday. Today, I sat with the Gospel in which Jesus says not to divorce (Mark 10:11). I sat with that reading for quite a while. My discussion group had just this week discussed the progress of the Episcopal Church's attitude and canons toward divorce over the last 100 years.* In my own nuclear family, my baby sister is twice divorced (his infidelity for #1 and his drug use for #2) and my brother just told us that his wife of 35 years divorced him and he did not contest it. Divorce is, for me, a painful subject, as it marks the end of a blessing, officially recognizes a failure.

What can I say? Jesus says not to divorce. It is clear and concise. And yet I work with men who are abusive and who have been and should be removed from their wives' lives. I deal with men who are not recovering from their addictions; to me they seem incapable of being of one flesh with anyone else. Yet my church says they must be bound into one flesh with their wives for all of life. (Not all of these men of whom I speak are in prison.) Was Jesus wrong? How can I, a mere individual decide what is right? Why did the church's attitude toward divorce evolve with no big hullabaloo? How am I expected to behave towards these men? How does what I know about them inform my opinions about divorce? How would I preach on October 4?

I finally grew as I sat with this scripture to understand that I am not called to decide. After all, what difference does my opinion make when it comes to talking to the men about their own behaviors, their addictions, their own excuse making? Aren't I getting distracted from ministering to them by making judgments? Yesterday's Gospel was "If thy foot causes thee to stumble, cut it off ...better to enter heaven lame than go to hell."

My prayer was for the perpetrators as well as victims of domestic violence. I was able to write a prayer without judging. But it took a lot of work. And I have not decided whether to grasp the tiger's tail or to wuss out and preach about "Let the little children come unto me. (Mark 10:14). I guess I'll have to sit with that reading some more.




*(according to my memory of Episcopal Church USA history)Prior to 1808, followed the English Church Law; 1808 no remarriage after a divorce; 1877 exception for the 'innocent party' if divorce is for adultery or for any reason after the death of the divorced spouse; 1904 added civil annulment ; 1931 allowed bishops to make annulments; 1973 allowed remarriage after any divorce at the discretion of the priest with permission of the bishop. As recently as 1975, priests who got divorced were asked to leave parochial ministry.

ministry or mission?

I was challenged last week by an acquaintance who asked me how I was carrying the Word to those in prison. I was not very eloquent, stumbling as I tried to explain that I am moved to offer a presence, reflective listening and comradeship to those in prison; to talk about how the Spirit is working in my life to bring me to them as a friend, not as a preacher or prophet. I must have sounded judgmental as I replied, because he became dismissive of my reasons and efficacy.

It hurt, as I am still struggling with my own self-esteem issues. Jim wisely has reminded me that it is instructive and inspirational to allow the inmates to watch and participate in my journey, as long as the group sessions do not become therapy for me instead of them. We are trying to teach, show and model behavior so that they can leave the behaviors and attitudes and habits of thought that got them here and pick up less destructive and hurtful ways for use when they are released.

But am I also supposed to bring them to Christ? Am I different from the chaplain who sits with the sick and dying to bring God's comfort to them? No one has ever called me to task for not trying to convert souls in the hospital. No one challenges the "Doctors Without Borders" staff to count the souls they have saved. Why is the prison minister expected to do more? Be different?

I read C.S.Lewis' Mere Christianity again this weekend. He was a great explainer, avoiding the pitfalls of instruction and instead having a beneficial conversation. His opinions are strong, leaning far left at times, far right at others, but very persuasive. I am glad I referred the men to the first chapter, in which he talks about innate knowledge of right and wrong. (Later, he claims that innate knowledge is the only proof we have of God's existence.) But that awareness of right and wrong echoes throughout my relationship with the inmates. We joke that a lot of what got them into trouble, "seemed like a good idea at the time." But they all agree that a sane person (and there are some sociopaths in the general population) really does know right from wrong. It is the problem of painting oneself into a corner so that all the choices that seem available are wrong that they wrestle with. Or loss of self control. The prison system offers them anger management and Alcohol and Addiction therapy. That is part of the correctional process, I think. We seem to be alone in discussing choices and the habit of doing right. On a par, as equals in the discussion. It sometimes seems like the 'victim of circumstances' argument versus the 'sinners seeking redemption' that echoes through all of Lewis' work.

I pray "Holy Spirit, may the words from my mouth and the thoughts from my heart be acceptable to you. (GWT©)" And then I add, "and when they aren't please help me."

Pitfalls

Jim started the discussion today by asking what a soon-to-be-paroled inmate was doing to keep from re offending or getting a violation. "I am just following my plan," he said. He has laid out his plan: AA, NA, avoiding friends and family who are using, obeying the rules and "just plodding ahead." Jim said that was a 'pat' answer. Somehow, we moved into what upsets us, and he mentioned his son. The conversation moved from the inmate to Jim. The group used all of our tools to help him go through the steps to analyze why he continued to enable his son's immaturity. (I won't go into details except that he had mentioned to me that his son got a parking ticket while driving Jim's car.) We talked at length with him, and he even got a little uncomfortable, which he has told me is a sign of new territory. One of the things Jim said was that he knows where his pitfalls are, but with his son, he steps into them anyway. That resonated with me. I suppose Jim and I are not alone; we all mostly know where our pitfalls are. At any rate, Jim got some good advice from one of the men, to decide within himself to give his son the financial help he asks for BEFORE he asks. Then it is a gift, and the anger, guilt and resentment don't attach. (Good advice, but hard to execute.) We eventually got back to the inmate in question, but he stayed with his stolid answers. In all, it was a solid meeting.

We look forward to the return of "Doc" who is in cubicle detention, leaving only for meals and worship for taking a swing at a dorm-mate's lamp which was keeping him awake. He could have gone to the box, but since he had been provoked, and since he hit the lamp, not the offensive inmate, he stayed out. We also hope to see another man who had to take an ACT course, which prevents him from coming to our group.

Outside in the yard, there is a beautiful perfectly formed conical maple tree. As we talked, I could see a group of 5 men gather under the tree, talking animatedly. It was an idyllic summer scene, save for the razor wire I was looking through. After the meeting I said as much to one of the men. He looked at me and said, "After a while, you stop seeing the razor wire and start seeing the summer."

Why is it so hard?

It took me 40 years to come to the point of wanting to visit and work with prisoners enough to actually do it. During that time, there were plenty of opportunities, albeit no one invited me. What was my hesitation? What blocked me from the call? Part of it was that I was full of my own problems. But I still am plagued by those issues. Part was the attitude of, "Let someone else do it." Part was the problem of out of sight out of mind. And then there was the inertia; maybe if I waited long enough there wouldn't be any need to do it. When I started, it was one invitation that did it, but it was also that I had become the person who could accept that invitation. Now that I am indeed making visits to the jails and the prisons, now that I am lending strength to families as the visit, and acting as a sounding post for those released to parole or probation, I can't understand what took me so long. I have met some wonderful volunteers, some who have been making weekly visits for as much as 40 years, some who make one visit a month. I have met some fascinating people in the system, too.

As we were discussing the A.A. principle that a person will not begin to change until their situation becomes too painful to NOT change, one of the inmates at Groveland said, "When I first was sentenced, I spent 10 years as the same person I had been when I committed my crime. I went to church and took all the courses they required because I knew it would go into my Parole file. In the yard I was the guy nobody messed with. And I went to "the Box" several times. But I didn't start to change inside until I got to the point that it was too much work to stay the biggest and baddest guy in the barracks. Something had to change. And it wasn't gonna be the prison system. That left it up to me." We went on to talk about how the "lifers" watch the newcomers, some "lifers" step forward to help them, others to recruit them into the prison lifestyle. Others still stand off and let it be. I began to think not only of that microcosm, but also about my own behaviors and attitudes. Don't we "lifers" fall into those three categories? Some of us are involved in the culture in which we find ourselves; we work, we strive to succeed and we teach others, our children and those we influence how to do the same. Some of us are rescuer types, striving to make the world a better place as we decide better, heroes or lawmen. Others are content to stand off to the side, allowing others the freedom to act, ready to guide if asked, but not volunteering.

Community

I wonder about how it feels to be cut off from your usual circle. The fence not only keeps the prisoner in, but slices across the relationships he has had his entire life. Friday a prisoner told me: My family told me not to bother them or expect anything from them during prison or after. How did that hit him? How did it effect his actions? I asked them how they keep from becoming negative and pessimistic. They all answered about using the time in prison to work on themselves, except for him. He talked about drifting, about wondering what was to become of him. He has turned to religion, but has become a follower of a charismatic preacher, who does not ask questions but gives answers.

I think that that is what Prison Ministry is starting to become for me, a forum to ask questions and sincerely and openly listen to the answers; to reflect the answers back and to reflect on them. And that is also beginning to be my reward, as well. In asking the questions, I open my self to be asked. In listening to the answers, I am given other ears to listen. And in reflecting, I see the waves and peeled silver of the mirror which is myself that I hold up to them.

What is success?

I am competitive. I want to be successful. Prison ministry resists giving me a feeling of success, of "winning." I need a new parameter. I need to describe my reasons for doing this in terms that don't require a measurement.
Last Monday I was in North Carolina. I missed my visit to the Wyoming NY State Facility even while I was visiting my father in his retirement community. I began to compare the visit I was doing to the prison visit I was missing. Perhaps that is the beginning of my new approach to valuing the visits I make.

Family in prison and out

I come from a fairly functional family. Most of us do. But when we hear that word, do we all hear the same thing? Begin with the basic unit: mom, dad, sister brother. Many of us have never experienced that, but we are taught that it is ideal. The church talks of the Family of God, all of us being the younger siblings by adoption of Jesus, God's first-born. The biologist may think of the taxonomic family, which is next above genus. A sociologist may think of families of cultures, like the Pacific family, the linguist of a family of laguages. A geneticist may think of a group who share a certain hereditary closeness. There is the Family of Man, a concept that was talked about in the 60's. And there is the street family, not quite exactly the same term as "gang." In order to communicate, we have to be clear as to what we mean.

On the 4th, I went to a picnic for Cephas, which I joined a year ago. It felt like family. There were some I knew and admired, some I met for the first time. I liked some right away, but even the ones with whom I disagreed had a connection to me stronger than my disagreement. I felt close to them. We had mutual experience, mutual concerns and common goals. We did NOT have common views and opinions. But there was a positive, forward thinking atmosphere that I enjoyed. We shared a meal, played games, and talked. I came away from that picnic encouraged, warmed and happy.

When I leave the jails and prisons, I sometimes get a similar feeling. The people I meet and talk with want to change, want to take something away from our meeting that will help them find a way to their goals, to be better than they were when they went in. One inmate said, "My change came when I realized that I had been thinking that my life was "on hold" in prison, and that it would start up when I got out. What I realized was that my life continued no matter where I was; that if I didn't change, then I would go right back to the boozing and mayhem that got me here." That positive, forward thinking attitude is, I believe what gives me the feeling of family.

July 2009 Parish newsletter Article

Newsletter article for 7-09

Have you ever felt like you’re the only one? The only young mother tied to a messy house and noisy kids? The only person at a company doing your best to get the job done? The only dog walker with plastic bags in your pocket? The only person saving for the future instead of spending it all now? The only one in school who is taking studying seriously? Do you remember how great it felt if someone smiled and said they appreciated your work? Sometimes prison ministry can feel like that, too. But Church is the connection, the support system that can make someone feel that they aren’t alone. Just as the missionaries we sent to the Pacific islands and to the Western Territories in the 1800’s needed that contact from home, all of us need that same feeling. Not a feeling of belonging so much as a feeling that others are aware, sympathetic and understanding. That what we do makes a difference, not only to those to whom we are ministering, but those who care. That is loving one another.
So as your summer progresses, as the days fill up with business and pass away, think of the people who are visit the prisons and work with releases and pray for them as much as you pray for those to whom they minister. Britt H, the chair of the Diocesan Prison Ministry committee convened a meeting and at the request of Bishop Singh took a “roll call” of everyone we knew was doing prison ministry. We are sure we missed some. If you know of someone in our diocese who is doing prison ministry but not mentioned, let us know. Here is our list:
Judy S Step by Step Albion State Facility for Women
Dick F RIJM(Rochester Interfaith Jail Ministry (2 groups a week)MCF (Monroe County Facility),Cephas Orleans State
Clare K Storybook Project Geneva
Bob C RIJM (with Dick Frey) MCF, Cephas Groveland State, Cephas Wyoming State
Dick L ACOA(Adult Children of Addiction) MCF
Britt H Cath. Fam. Ctr. CFC building Literacy Volunteers MCF (soon)
Janet F Allegheny County Jail
Gloria L Step by Step Belmont State
Margy M Step by Step (founder/director) ----
Bob S SMART and Judicial Process Commission MCF
Peter P JPC MCFElsa Schaefer RIJM Monroe County Jail (downtown)
Bjorna AA @MCF, Bridging the Gap

These folk all need your care. If you meet them, or have occasion to speak to them, thank them for their ministry. Pray for them by name, as well as for the prisoners.

My article for my parish newsletter

Messenger Article for JUNE 2009

This is the season of Pentecost. We as a community celebrate Jesus’ promise of the Holy Spirit as a guide and teacher. I have been thinking a lot about the meaning of Spirit and of the Pentecost reading: “…And when he comes, he will prove the world wrong about sin and righteousness and judgement…
The early Church believed that the Holy Spirit spoke most clearly “in Synod.” That is in groups and communities who invited the HS to come and teach, lead and guide them. That is why we read in Acts 15 of the Council of Jerusalem and in Church History about the Council of Nicaea (as in the Nicene Creed). As Christians, we not only live in community, but solve problems in community, invoking the Holy Spirit God has sent us.
Our growing prison population is a symptom of the brokenness of our community. There is an organization in Monroe County which presented a program called “The School to prison pipeline.” They want to break the progress of our children’s hopelessness at the school level. We can argue whether to blame the schools, TV, suburban sprawl, the automobile, any number of things for our isolation and separation, but we can see the results: there are a growing number of young men and women who are unattached to any healthy community or family group. They firmly believe that they have no hope for achieving any kind of future, and so they live only for today, only for themselves. They are truly of the World. When this belief system runs up against our system of laws and justice, they become inmates. When they don’t have the strength to survive, they take refuge in drugs and alcohol, which offer refuge from the reality they live in.
Jesus promised we would be sent the Holy Spirit saying “He will testify… and you (must) testify…” What are we to testify? We can and do through Prison Reentry and Aftercare, that the premise on which the prisoner based his or her belief is wrong: They CAN have hope. Jesus’ Incarnation and Resurrection and Ascension have turned the world upside down. There is a future to achieve, and they have no disadvantage, there is no bar to their receiving it. Jesus did not preach revolution against authority. His sermons went deeper. He preached revolution against hopelessness, against acceptance of the world’s judgement.
At some point in many inmates’ lives, they realize that they have made mistakes and have spent all their energy fighting the consequences. Frequently in a group I will find many of the men I am talking to who say “It seemed like a good idea at the time and no one told me otherwise.” We then talk about finding friends one can trust who have good judgement, and of making decisions ‘in community.’ And we talk about learning to be that kind of friend. Prison ministry takes a member of the Church and puts him or her in position to speak along with the Holy Spirit to these people who have become outsiders and to help them.
But Prison Ministry does not only occur in the prisons. It happens within our neighborhoods and within the walls of our church as well. Our Christian faith must inform our politics. Not partisan politics, but the politics of what we ask our political system to deal with, what we ask our selves, our families, our neighborhoods and our communities to focus on. To combat the prison issues, we must start early: we must not let the World have the biggest say in children’s and youths’ lives. We can visit people who are imprisoned but not incarcerated. The Holy Spirit, if asked, can and will come into our discussions about this issue. Each of us can become a member of prison ministry by bringing up the subject.

5/10

The lectionary for this Sunday is Jesus as the vine, God pruning away the unproductive. What is unproductivity? Must we have children and wealth to be fruitful? Where does that leave the prisoner? The unmarried? Me? Most of us one time or another have felt unfulfilled, unfruitful. How does it feel to be in prison and feel locked out of usefulness? Dear God our Father, we pray for those who feel they have been pruned away. Help them remain part of the family with us. Help them see their connectedness, and help us see that, too. It is your will which does the pruning, not ours. Help us to remember not to judge, not to shun and not to fear. We pray this week for the women visited by Elsa Schafer and Sister Judy, who have been shut away from their homes, their children and their responsibilities and supports. Be with them as they pass their days in their cells. We also offer thanksgiving for the donations we have received of shoes and a great TV for Enriche House.

May 17

How would I feel if my brother were in prison? My father? My daughter? If we are to follow the commandment Jesus gave us, we must try to imagine that circumstance and let our feelings then govern our behavior. How would I feel? I would be embarrassed, ashamed, angry, pitying, and anxious. What would I do? I would visit as often as I could, I would write, and I would plan for the release, and devote time and companionship after the release. If Jesus commands it how can I refuse? “Dear Jesus, you have given us your command to love one another; this is a heavy and ponderous task. Give the strength and grace to obey not once, but continually. We thank you for the opportunity to follow your command in jails and prisons and halfway houses all through our community.”

The Parole Board's Dilemma

I've had time now to think about what the men said at our last meeting. Their comments contained three hard nuts to crack: 1) A lot depends on the in-house parole officer's attitude, skill and effort; the parole workers in the Upstate area are harsher, older and more bureaucratic than Downstate, who are more on the prisoner's side, more active and motivated. The Parole Commissioners take the parole worker's recommendations. 2) An inmate can work the system or work himself, and no one can tell the difference just by looking at a file [And even he doesn't know how well he has changed]. 3) Who is more dangerous, the man who murdered his wife and has served 30 years in prison, attending AA, anger management and violence prevention workshops and has obtained a graduate degree, or the 25 year old gang banger who has led a life of desperate violence and no introspection, but has never been caught and convicted of a felony, or the drunk driver? Whom should the public fear?

My reactions during the discussion were predictable. I wanted to figure out a way to train and motivate the parole office workers in Upstate, to make them more compliant. I wanted to figure out a way to investigate and interview better to ensure that the rehabilitation of the inmate is more reliable, and I wanted to advocate for the men to help the public understand that they should be accepted back into society. That is me all over, Mr. Fixit, the solutions guy. But time is short. I don't have the lifespan ahead to accomplish that, nor the energy. It would take massive effort to reshape Parole, and massive effort to effect Society, if it can be done at all.

So what is one volunteer supposed to do? I can do what the Cephas volunteers started 38 years ago: visit the inmates, offer active intelligent listening, and bring their conditions ouot to the world. I can encourage them to work on their own issues and grow, not to earn release but to be better. I can ask the society I represent and which put them away, to keep them in their minds and hearts. I can advocate as best I can. But like the inmate, I cannot make success my goal. Instead my goal must be that I changed within myself and made witness to the people around me. It is up to others to join me and it is up too the community to change. It is not up to me to impose change. That is hard for Mr. Fixit.

What do you want?

If I were to ask an inmate what he wants, the first answer would be obvious. When Joe was talking to Commissioner Alexander, he said, "It's wonderful that you are focused on reducing the time some folks spend on parole. But I don't want to get off parole. I want to get ON it!"

But many of the men in State prison have the time and the inclination to think deeper than that. Joe holds an MA in Theology. He has said in other conversations that he wants to have a breather when he gets out. He wants to spend time in the woods, or on a farm with no one around him and no schedules or tasks. After that, he wants to contribute to Cephas' ministry however his talents can fit. These are simple, reasonable and do-able wants. The only disconnect between them and the real world is that he isn't gong to get out on parole any time soon.

Even though recidivism by prisoners released after 20+ years is lowest of all the groups studied (I don't have the statistical reference) Joe is not going to get out. Talking with the men, I can feel the awful contradiction under which they live. They see men who are violent and will injure society when released sentenced to only a few years, and even if they don't adjust well to prison, even if they remain violent in prison, after their term is ended, they leave. Meanwhile, there are men who are imprisoned for crimes they committed as youths, and would never commit again, men for whom the penitentiary system has actually worked. But the parole system will not release them. These are men who have served more than their minimum term, who are penitent, and who have been reformed. But the system can't be sure, and there is a barrier they live behind: once a judge uses the phrase "..to life" the convict may indeed never "earn" release.

In this Lenten season, I shudder that there are people who live under that same fear, that same oppression. What does it do to your soul to think that you may live your whole life clean, sober and pure and then lose it all with one sin? There are those in all three of the major patriarchal religions who believe this, who live in this fear. They talk about Heaven, but they live on the edge of Hell. How can I testify to the reverse? I don't preach in the prisons. That is not my purpose. But my presence there, like Christ's presence on Earth, is testimony to God's love for all his creatures.The Psalmist cried , "I have become a reproach to all my enemies and even to my neighbors, a dismay to those of my acquaintance; when they see me in the street they avoid me. I am forgotten like a dead man, out of mind; I am as useless as a broken pot.” God's response was the Incarnation, a concrete assurance of uninterrupted love and forgiveness.

Fog

Today, after visiting with the men in the jail, I drove out to the state penitentiary to get indoctrinated, printed and ID'd. The topic in the jail was anger. Dick asked if anyone disagreed with the author that anger could be useful. One man missed the point, talking about how making others angry was a game or a way he manipulated others. Another man said he got angry when he called his fellows to prayer (he has made himself muzzain and apparently cultural police as well) and they stay in bed. A third man asked him, "Why is that your business? Are you Allah's bailiff?" At the end of the session I thanked them for their openness and willingness to share with the rest of us. The muzzain, who has been confrontational with me previously, licked eyes but did not answer, The other two shook my hand as they left.

At Wyoming, I was amazed at the intimacy of having my prints taken. The woman DOC cop stood next to me and gently but firmly held my hand and printed me 4 times, twice for the State, twice for Homeland Security. Our bodies were side by side as she rocked each finger on the ink pad and then rocked it on the paper, our arms entwined, her leading the dance and me following.

Afterwards, my escort brought me back to the waiting room and the receptionist called the Chaplain's office. She apologized to him for not reading his note carefully; I was supposed to see him first and get printed second. Now, he had a service to conduct, and I would have to reschedule. I was amused that he did not come out to tell me, and although she apologized to him, she did not to me. Why was I not angry? I merely shrugged and smiled and drove the hour home. And watched the fog rise up off the snow banks, like ghosts rising from dead bodies, drifting across the Thruway, lost souls looking to catch a ride, torn to shreds by the heavy material semis ignoring them in haste.

I got home in mid-afternoon, with two large coffees and three donuts under my belt, but my limbs were heavy and I could hardly get into the house. I fell into my easy chair and slept for three hours. Then I drove back to Brockport, played duplicate bridge for three hours and came home. As I write this. I once again am fighting exhaustion. I will soon drag myself upstairs and struggle to get undressed before I fall into bed.

Unity

Somewhere, somehow, I got the mistaken belief that I had to be part of a team. I had to follow coach's orders, remember the plays and do my part to beat the opponents. Well, that is creating a disconnect for me. It doesn't fit my theology nor my social theory. It is all well and good for a particular purpose to form a team and work with unity of purpose. I see that in the hospital trauma unit: when the injured person arrives, the twenty people in the room transform from a mob into a noisy machine. A nurse stands in the corner recording, another at the medicines and supplies, feeding the doctors tubes, vials, syringes and IV bags, a tech taking the blood for testing, the radiology tech pushing a plate under the patient and swinging the arm overhead. And when the patient is stabilized, removed to surgery or declared, the machine disintegrates until the next time.

What is the model for Prison Ministry? Well, apparently it is not a well-oiled machine. We seem to get by with the minimum planning, management and reporting. We seem to be a group of individuals with more or less common goals, visions and intentions working together just barely enough to get the volunteer to the prisoner. And the jail gives the same impression. No military order, not even a schedule like a high school, things happen when they happen, and the food distribution seems to govern. Visitors, classes, groups and everything except security bows in that direction. Individual volunteers find a niche and live in it. One of my fellow workers has been going in to visit prisoners at the same time of the same weekday for 15 years. If a prisoner wants help, the other inmates tell her, "Wait to see ES when she comes in. You can depend on her to be here."

What is my own model for my own life? Not as a member of a long-standing team, certainly. I am more like a family member, one who lives in another town, but whom a sister or cousin can call with good news, or ask for help making bail. But that tension with the team concept remains for me. I am not a serene individual alone by choice and among others by choice; I constantly want approval. I "check in" with people much more than they want. Silence hurts. I want to be greeted when I arrive and missed when I am gone.

Because of this tension in myself, I watch the prisoners and ex-offenders I meet. Where are they in that particular process? Are they comfortable in who they are and where they are? How does their need to belong, their need to get approval feed into their criminal behavior, their understanding of the judicial process? By watching this, I have had the opportunity to reflect with a few and give them a perspective on themselves they might not have gotten elsewhere. When that happens, it is like a little nod from the Authority for me.

Insecurity

I was once asked "What is the opposite of faith?" The questioner wanted to test me; the 'correct' answer is "certainty." But for me, the opposite is insecurity. Each time something has happened to me that I felt inadequate, unsure or inferior, it was a blow to my faith in myself and my maker. My secretary on Team 16 had a little cartoon from Postal Instant Press of a little black girl. The caption read, "God made me and God don't make trash." I took that cartoon to heart. Lack of self-esteem equates to lack of faith. I must have faith that God made me and he did not make trash. I am valued and valuable.

The prisoners I visited on Friday seemed to read my insecurity. Jim frequently says, "we get as much out of these visits as the inmates do." This visit I got quite a bit. I was overwhelmed by their desire to get me confident so I could do the out-of-prison half of prison ministry. By joining with them, I join their cause. Politically, to work to humanize and make rational the bureaucracy under which they live. Socially, to locate and prepare a place for them, not just an apartment, but a job, opportunity. Spiritually, to create a place of refuge and regeneration for them, which may include a church but definitely includes a community of friends trained to continue the Cephas content, including pricking inflated egos and denying rationalizations and excuses.

I don't feel up to the challenge, and they sensed that. So the session dealt with that. But where do they need support and guidance where they are? If I am going to be present for them, don't I have to focus on them, not me? Don't they?

Contracts

My group got hijacked last night. That is a great event. I asked the question, "What happened in the last week that challenged your positive attitude?" And we began discussing the refrigerator.

It seems that one man had eaten a salad and a glass of juice from his own resources, and had gone out to have a smoke. When he got back, someone had drunk the rest of his juice and put the empty container in the cooler. When he complained, no one admitted guilt, but several complained that they, too, had lost food. My question took the lid off the simmering anger he felt, and the resentment the others felt that he was accusing them all and treating all of them as the guilty party.

I was able, before the session ended, to lead them all to an agreement that he had a legitimate gripe, lead him to apologize for taking it out on everyone, and for them all to understand that there is a contract amongst them, as part of their agreement with the House, to respect each other's property rights. They understood that the Counselor and the house manager would be convening a business meeting to decide how to enforce the rules of property.

The discussion was how people react to violations. We discussed avoidance, blindness, aggressive resistance and pro-active generosity. We discussed gluttony, disrespect and loneliness and even ignorance as motives, too. We did not solve anything, but I was flying high as I left.

On the way home, one of the comments we didn't follow through came back to me. "I feel just like the folks who moved to Webster; I want to put distance between myself and this stealing." I thought about suburban sprawl and the escapism of white flight. The media have been full of stories and opinions about the causes of the City School District's failures, of the high crime rate in the City, and so forth. I wondered about the unexplored motives of people leaving the City starting right after WWII. There was the appeal of home ownership and clean healthy suburban life, but how much avoidance of the responsibility of city citizenship was there, underneath? Finding and moving to a good school system instead of making the one you are in better? Of taking responsibility for reporting crime and making sure the legal system worked rather than fleeing the crowding and the crime? Of learning to get along with "the Other" or avoiding the possibility of having to cope with diversity on one's own block?

The halfway house/transition house system is designed to help people learn how to fit in to society as they are released from institutions. But what the heck are we teaching? I concluded once again that I can't be an activist in just one little area, I can't limit my opinions and mission to one topic. There are only a few degrees of separation between aftercare for a parolee and suburban sprawl, between a recovering addict and the no child left behind system.

Feet of Clay?

The news about George Alexander, the Chair of the NYS State Parole Commissioners resigning over a laptop allegedly taken from his office over a year ago has finally settled down. The opinions I have heard are that he pushed too hard for reform. Many other people have sadly added him to the long list of politicos who feel they are above the law. I am troubled by both because they assume the worst. The first group are ready to believe there is a conspiracy, the second group that no one in politics is honest. Is there no middle ground?

I personally go back to my faith. I believe that we are all sinners, and that we cannot always avoid doing the wrong thing. I have a strong sense of judgmentalism, specially for myself. But how can I decide which errors of judgement are unforgivable? I sit in groups with child molesters, embezzlers, murderers, muggers, and rapists. How can I be angry at George A. (accused but not convicted of stealing a used laptop, value $500) when I am sitting next to and befriending David B. who molested a church member's 12 year old daughter? And I refuse to tell my own crimes in this public space. What does my faith say to me?

As a Christian, I believe that we are all equally sinful, that one sin is no more grievous than another in God's eyes. And I believe that God has forgiven us all equally. That does not mean there need not be punishment, atonement, vigilance, isolation, whatever. It means that the sinner still has value to add to God's creation and to the community and to me. That faith has led me to sit and befriend the men I visit, to do what I can to assist them to get parole, to find a place back among us and to help them return to "outside life."

It has led me to look at George A.'s alleged theft and subsequent resignation the way a farmer looks at an orchard destroyed by hail, a vineyard or potato field ruined by nematodes: I cry for the loss of the crop; I fret about how I will manage without the crop; I sigh for the loss of all the potential benefit. But I don't get angry, certainly not at George.