Now I know that may not sound that important, but to our volunteer group, it is. In a prison you are referred to usually by the guards by your number or your last name, not your first. It truly differentiates us from just being another outside group there to exercise control over them. So the fact our people who know each of the guys by first name was gone was a bit of a blow from the start, so I made an effort to glance at name tags as they came in on their clothes to greet them by first name. It was really humbling for me, to shake the hands of these men and welcome them to Mass and speak their names. I can't really put it into words, but it was just so humbling to know that I was the first person they were meeting as they came in, followed by another Crim doc student (we never mentioned our major in front of the guys).
Even though the prison doesn't like it, we let the guys handle a lot of stuff and we sit among one another instead of separating volunteers and inmates. Other than the music, we don't do any of the stuff like readings. The inmates get out the holy water to put by the door, they set up the altar for Father R., they doing the procession with the crucifix staff. Let me tell you, whomever you may be that is reading this post, that it is truly humbling to watch a man in a prison with a learning disability, read the Old Testament and New Testament passages.
Today this was especially true. None of the guys who come to the prison Mass are the sort who declare their innocence, each of them has told us before that they're guilty. So hearing a guy who is in there partially because of how he caused some pretty bad harm to a person read this:
Romans 13:8-10
Brothers and sisters:
Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another;
for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.
The commandments, "You shall not commit adultery;
you shall not kill; you shall not steal; you shall not covet, "
and whatever other commandment there may be,
are summed up in this saying, namely,
"You shall love your neighbor as yourself."
Love does no evil to the neighbor;
hence, love is the fulfillment of the law.
is humbling beyond belief. I don't think I was the only one who reacted to it either, a lot of the guys were crossing themselves, even if they normally wouldn't. In that environment, following these words is a difficult matter.
The Gospel was binding and loosing and how to confront one who had wronged you. Father pointed out how this was about reconciliation with those who had wronged you, and how applicable it was, whether you were in prison or outside. He brought out an example of an African American wrongly convicted of rape based on the woman's testimony, nothing else, and how later he found out there was a guy who looked a lot like him in the prison. It turned out that other man had raped the woman, and when he was exonerated of the crime, he asked to meet with her. She was very nervous, as this man had spent 15 years in prison over her being wrong in her testimony, but finally agreed because there were a lot of people who would be there. As she walked in and saw him, he looked up and softly said, "I forgive you".
After that we continued on with the Creed, the Holy, the Sign of Peace and such. There is something truly humbling about the Sign of Peace in a prison setting. I managed to make it to every one of the guys, but not all the volunteers. And though I didn't realize it at the time, I'll hopefully never be going "Peace be with you" to one of them again.
Then came time for Holy Communion. Every time I approach our Lord in the Eucharist, I am all too aware of my own human failings. This was no different, but after I opened my eyes from prayer after, I could see some of the inmates having tears crawl down their faces. That was moving and powerful.
The announcements came, and Father R. talked about the new reading and devotional stuff in the back. He thanked the Newman Center (we college students) for coming out. Then he announced that R, one of our guys, was going to be leaving us next week. We were all so happy to hear it, inmate and volunteer alike, that he'll be going to a halfway house. I'm a criminologist, I know the odds of him returning to prison, but I still hold out hope that R can beat the odds.
We sang the closing hymn, and it's one that at my parish people would start clapping during. Instead, at this, the guys were treating it with the utmost solemnity. I found my mind wandering and wishing the people outside the walls of the prison could be so respectful in the Mass as those who have lost their freedom.
We all said our goodbyes to R especially as we packed it all up with the help of the inmates. We wished him good luck, told him we never wanted to see him with us in that room again, etc. Then it was time to go...until the computers went down. So the guys guy put in the chapel, we got put in a side room. Some of the volunteers were nervous, but most of us weren't. The other doc student and I discussed her dissertation and wedding plans. And twenty minutes later, we left.
It's always so humbling though. These men, some of them are younger than I and are there for drugs or for violent crimes. And from a criminological perspective it's interesting at times too; one of the guys today was telling the other doc student and I (bare in mind he doesn't know our major) about how the cooking has improved over the years he's been there as the guys who have life sentences have gained a lot of experience and skill. I wouldn't normally think of skill and prison food, but I could see where that could happen; it's a glimpse I wouldn't get from the stodgy world of quantitative research on prisons or secondary data analysis.
In short, I went in today, not really feeling like I was close to God, or that I should even be there. When I left, I realized that I wasn't close to Him because of my own doubts and fears, but the humility of this Mass amongst men whose only hope is Christ, brought me back to an understanding. Thanks guys.
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