I thank God every day for prison ministry!
Taken separately, the words prison and ministry might seem incongruous, but together, they are an indispensable part of incarcerated life. Honestly, without these volunteers, prisons would be the coldest, most inhumane places on earth. I can’t speak for all the 30,000+ inmates in Ohio when I say “I (we) need and dearly appreciate you,” but I’m quite certain they would agree. Volunteers bring God’s nonjudgmental and unconditional love into a place where judgment, angst and loneliness run amok. Their energy, dedication, compassion and deep faith make lasting impacts on our lives.
To illustrate how my life has been changed by prison ministry, I have two stories that are interwoven the way only God can weave.
My first interaction with a volunteer from America (that’s prison-speak for society) was at Catholic Mass in early fall 1994. I’d only been here a few months and had not found my footing. I was grieving, traumatized, overwhelmed and clueless about how prison life was going to be.
Our chaplain, Father Barry Bentz, had brought in a musician from his team at Our Lady of Lourdes in Marysville; this guy had been here many times before, was friendly, kind and chatting with all the girls. But in my broken, brand-new inmate state of mind, I was too ashamed, embarrassed, guilty and felt unworthy of his time. So I wouldn’t, couldn’t and didn’t speak to him.
He set up his guitar and started singing and, wow, he was great! The songs were easily familiar and all the girls were singing along, making a joyful noise. I wanted to, but my heart got stuck in my throat and no words would come out. I made it through Mass, but, sadly, the disgrace and self-reproach won the battle in my mind that night and I left without saying thank you, goodnight or God bless. I just wasn’t ready or able to receive God’s unconditional love through a stranger. Sigh.
Father Bentz quickly figured out the issue and obviously had a talk with his prison ministry music team. From that Mass forward, he personally introduced us and stood there until I talked to them in order to break through my mental block. Because his musicians were sensitive and patient, over time, his method was successful. They went out of their way to help me feel comfortable, safe and find my voice. In their dedication and faithfulness, they proved I was worthy of their time. I emerged from my trauma-imposed shell as we connected over music.
My life was impacted so strongly that I grew into the musician and soloist role for Mass; I have been leading our congregation in song for many years. I’ll also talk to anybody who walks in the door!
Three Christmas Masses in a row with Bishop Earl Fernandes have been special blessings. Last year, he brought Governor Mike DeWine and First Lady Fran DeWine, and I really wanted to say hello. Alas, inmates were not allowed to approach, so I just smiled a lot.
For my second interaction, we have to set the time machine for 1995. I’d been incarcerated one year and was selected as a participant in Kairos 3. Kairos is a worldwide prison ministry program that takes inmates on a 3 ½-day “retreat” inside the prison. We form a new relationship and walk more confidently with God and one another under their guidance and encouragement.
By that time, I’d become quasi-comfortable with Father Bentz’s “one guest at a time” for Mass. I was wholly unprepared for the tidal wave of 75 cheering, clapping volunteers welcoming me on opening night! Each participant was announced individually and it was holy madness. Unfortunately, that same ugly, guilty, shame-laden inmate part of my brain kicked in again and it was very difficult for me to engage. I wasn’t sure I’d make it through the first night, let alone three more days. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that they already knew I was an inmate … that’s exactly why they were here!
Kairos volunteers are genuinely understanding, patient and open to the Holy Spirit’s prompting. They are bringing God’s unconditional love into the prison and nothing is going to stop them. They end up staying involved far beyond the initial one-year commitment.
As a testament to the volunteer’s dedicated longevity, all the other 41 participants in my retreat weekend have left prison and are living their lives elsewhere (a few even became part of the outside ministry and return as volunteers!). When I attended the Kairos 57 closing ceremony a few weeks ago, I saw some of the Kairos 3 volunteers in the audience who were as happy and humble as they were 30 years ago when we met.
They helped us not only get closer with God but build a community of faith in here so we can lean on one another. Prison ministry expands because of conversation starters like this: “So, what did you do this weekend?” “Well, I went to prison and it was amazing.” Experiences are shared. People’s perspectives shift. God opens hearts and minds and calls more people to action.
I believe volunteers are proof that God has not forgotten us. They are proof that we matter and are worthy of love. He sees us, forgives us and wants us to believe it! I have discovered courage and found my voice. I shed the alien skin I was in and allowed God to create me anew. I learned to accept love, give love, be authentic and vulnerable because people listened to God’s call.
Thank you for being the embodiment of Matthew 25:36 and 40, “I was in prison and you visited me … Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for Me.”
Michele Williams is incarcerated at the Ohio Reformatory for Women in Marysville.