The Good Chase

This blog was written in November, 2014.

            I have a friend named Chase and he’s Muslim. He takes his faith seriously, makes his prayers five times each day, avoids profanity, pornography, and gambling. During Ramadan he was undergoing chemo. The med staff here failed in their diagnosis. His jaw swelled about a year ago. Medical said, “You have an infection.” For nine months they ran Chase around with antibiotics and “suck on tart candies” to “stimulate your salivary glands.” Turns out they were wrong. The swelling got worse, started choking off his airway. A quick trip to MCV and the real diagnosis came in: cancer of the salvia gland, stage “3.” Tough to hear anytime, let alone less than a year before you go home after eighteen years. Chase, he took it all in stride. “It’s in the hands of Allah,” he said and he began the treatments. And Ramadan? In his weakened state, he couldn’t participate in the month long fast. That too was ok. He was alive and survived, he said, by the will of his God.

            Chase is a nice guy, one of the nicest men I’ve met either inside – or outside of prison. He may not have always done the “right” thing and like all of us he made mistakes. He was in here for the last 18 years for crimes he committed. But, he is a kind, decent man who strives to live to the tenets of his faith.

            Religion is a tough topic. My 81-year-old father – a Korean War veteran – tried to tell me at visitation the other day that we need to get those “barbarians” in ISIL. And, he distinguished ISIL by their religion. I asked him what Jesus would do? Jesus, I said, would forgive, and freely allow them to behead Him because it isn’t this body that’s important; it’s your soul. My dad just said Jesus wouldn’t make it in today’s world. I thought to myself, maybe that’s the problem.

            “Religion is the opiate of the masses.” That was Karl Marx, a near penniless writer trying to feed a family in the industrial Darwinism that was London in the 19^th century. Marx was angry at his circumstances, angry at the vast disparity between the haves and have-nots. Religion, he concluded, kept the disadvantaged from rising up and slaughtering those who held them in check. As I said, religion is a tough topic. And, it’s easy to draw anecdotal conclusions and apply them to every circumstance. The world isn’t black and white it is hued in a sorts of grays and religion is right in there.

            There are very good Muslims. There are very bad self-professed Christians. There are agnostics and atheists who better represent Jesus than I could ever hope to. Gandhi understood more about the Sermon on the Mount and our call to action as followers of the Prince of Peace than most Christians I’ve met. There is a self-described “man of faith” in here who claims to love his Catholic Church yet he is one of the meanest, most hateful men I have ever met. He is continually angry. He is a racist and a homophobe. Another man watches Joel Osteen multiple times each week yet runs most of the scams in the building and lies about everything from his “wife” to his upbringing. Christian – by affirmation – say both men.

            Chase occasionally will work himself into a frenzy – as do most Muslims and Christians here – when the subject of gay marriage comes up. Life becomes black and white. Homosexuality is a sin, they all agree. I find it ironic that the same ones who profess eternal damnation for that sin overlook their own murders, adultery, or a dozen other “serious” sins. So, I asked Chase if you’re sexual orientation is biologically predetermined (i.e. it’s in your genes) and God is the ultimate constructor of everything, from the simplest single cell to the sun doesn’t that mean God created those genes? “You have a point,” he told me. Islam – like Christianity – professes to judge not the sinner. All are God’s children.

            Free choice. It isn’t God who warps our minds and distorts and alienates. Over and over the New Testament tells Christians “God is love.” We are called to “turn the other cheek,” “forgive as God has forgiven you,” “care for the widow and orphan … visit the sick and those in prison, … clothes to the naked, feed the hungry … give and it will be given to you.” No, religion doesn’t make people hurl insults at Latino children who come here to escape the murderous rage of gang warfare in Columbia, Honduras, or El Salvador. Religion doesn’t cause “church members” to hold signs at a funeral saying “God hates fags,” or shooting doctors sitting in church because they happen to provide abortions. That’s man’s evil side, his – or her “free choice” packaged as God’s will.

            Beheading, torturing a kidnapped journalist in the name of God is evil and sinful. But, so is labeling all Muslims bad; so is calling on your nation to bomb your enemies into oblivion. That isn’t Godly nor is it confined to one nation, one race, one creed.

            A little background on me. In my college days, my mother always told me to consider the ministry. I could talk! Was it because I was so theologically astute that my mom wanted me to pursue a seminary education? No. She just wanted to be the mother of a preacher. But, we were a “churched” family. I was a deacon at 16, read Calvin and a host of other protestant “reformed: theologians. Intellectually, I got “it.” I always wondered, however, when the minister would take a position not in keeping with his congregation’s voting habits how the members would discount the words as not realistic in “the real world.” God and mammon co-existed quite easily in most churches that I’ve attended. Uncle Sam, it seems, sits on the left side of God. My adult life – married, father, ordained elder, Sunday school teacher, I lived quite comfortably with that cognitive dissonance. That all changed in August 2008.

            I understand more now about the infinite power and mystery of God than I ever did. And, everyday I’m reminded how far I must go. Too often guys in here use “religion” as a means of separation, segregation, and self-delusion. They miss the “real” message. Funny but the same is true out there. You ever read Paul’s letter to the Corinthians about love? Every wedding – it seems – uses Paul’s words. I can tell you – 28 years with a woman I still love and pray for everyday in spite of the divorce – we didn’t meet Paul’s test. We failed; almost everyone does.

            Don’t blame God for the evil that’s done in His name. Blame those of us who profess belief and then distort His desires and ways for our own selfish, evil, and petty hopes. And maybe, just maybe, we can all start practicing a little more what we profess.

Asking About Blindness

There’s a story in the New Testament I’ve been trying to get my hands around for the past few weeks. It concerns Jesus and the disciples coming upon a blind man. The disciples ask “Was it the parents’ sin or his own sin that led to his blindness.” “The Message” records Jesus response in these modern words: “You’re asking the wrong question. You’re looking for someone to blame. There is no cause and effect here. Look instead for what God can do.”

            Asking the wrong question. Look instead for what God can do. The words have rolled around my brain for a few weeks. It was with those words in mind that I thought about a response to comments from “Anonymous” on May 3 (see Waiting blog). It struck me funny because the tight knit group of young men in here, who follow what I write and why I write it, had a definite opinion of what my response should be and it was different than what I thought. I told one young guy in particular – who urged me to go forward “with a vengeance” – that you have to step back and see the big picture.

            It really comes down to three P’s: Paul, Punishment, and Perseverance.

            People think they understand another’s circumstances completely and they know exactly the proper response for any situation and they are sure they would do “the right thing.” It’s human nature really. We see our neighbor’s failures, foibles, and weaknesses, and know we wouldn’t do that. Worse, we decide in the rightness of ourselves and therefore lack empathy for those who stray. “Break the law you’re going to be punished.” Simple words, yet wrong.

            I spend a good deal of time reading Paul’s letters to the various small, struggling churches around Asia Minor. I’m amazed at his transformation from law enforcer to grace proclaimer. And, I can’t get over the fact that this man, with the blood of innocents on his hands, was the primary catalyst for the growth of Christianity beyond the relatively small, sect-like following of its post-resurrection numbers.

            Paul was a bright, well-off man of the community. He knew the law and understood that it had to be enforced. Go outside its terms and be punished. His was a simple, cause-effect view. And then he came face to face with God and realized it wasn’t law that propelled us forward, but grace, God’s unfathomable mercy and love that no one deserves, yet gets. Irony of ironies (to me anyway) Paul carried that message of reconciliation, forgiveness, hope, and love all from prison. And, he never shied away from what he had been. He freely admitted his past.

            To the writer of the blog posting I simply say everything you write about my past is true. We could argue technical terms, and I could present a strong defense justifying my behavior. (Then again, I don’t think you are interested in the whole story.) But the fact is, I stole. Fact is, I knew what I was doing was wrong; knew I’d get caught, knew I’d probably lose everything. I don’t shy away from my past sins or “the whys.” Like the story of the blind man, however, I think you are asking the wrong question.

            Then there’s “punishment.” Let’s make sure we understand, I don’t think there is no place for prison. Prison can be a useful tool. But, I did have to laugh at the naïveté of the writer who said, in effect they’d conducted an informal survey of friends and acquaintances and “there is a strong consensus what prison is like.” No there isn’t. Until you experience it, you don’t have a clue.

            And that’s not really the point. I write about the failures of prison because they are so painfully obvious. Forget the philosophical argument (should society, in the name of justice, allow barbaric, cruel inhumane treatment to enforce judgments?), as a practical matter prisons fail. Fact: two of three released inmates return to prison within three years (so much for deterrent effect!); Fact: incarcerating non-violent, low custody offenders leads to worse criminal behavior in the future; Fact: it is expensive and not cost-effective.

            There is a reason conservative Republican politicians are jumping on the band wagon of prison reform. It is the elephant (no pun intended!) in the room when you discuss failed government.

            Now, if your goal is purely and simply retribution, then prisons are great. They destroy lives, tear families apart, lead to generational and community distress; make people bitter – both inside and outside the walls. Prison creates an attitude that seeks to deny responsibility for one’s actions.

            The problem with prison is it leads to more problems than it solves. Over 90% of all the incarcerated will return to society. How they leave this place is largely determined by the treatment they receive while in here, the support from family and friends on release, and education and job skills they possess. Abuse a man – or woman – in prison and you risk spending millions over the course of that felon’s life on additional prison terms and resulting costs on welfare, drug treatment, and more.

            This is neither a left or a right issue. Conservative politicians use catch-all phrases like “tough on crime” with a one size fits all (“lock em up and throw away the key”) approach. Liberals become apologists for bad behavior excusing gang violence, drug dealing, and other crimes blaming irresponsible behavior on a racist society.

            The truth is, prison is expensive, ineffective, and – with the exception of the extremely violent and sociopathic inmates does more harm than good. Prison lacks morality. It is not effective punishment. It is primitive, purposeless, and poisons society’s core values.

            Finally, perseverance. I’ve done a fair number of stupid things in my life. Even though I never, however, did anything with the intention of hurting anyone, I broke the law and accepted (contrary to what the writer said) with no question, my punishment. Easy? No. Suffering? Neither the writer, nor family and friends, know the extent of what I’ve been through (which also caused me to smile when my anonymous poster told me to “suffer in silence.”) I have been blessed in the experience and believe there in a purpose and a reason for it. If nothing else, I write to put real flesh and blood on a group of people long neglected: the imprisoned.

            There is a reason the Psalms, the Old Testaments Prophets, and even Jesus refer over and over to the plight of the “prisoners.” And before I’m told those “prisoners” are a metaphor for someone other than a lawbreaker, remember Paul’s admonition about the law: all fall short.

            People have the capacity for great good and great evil. I have witnessed incredible acts of kindness by men whom most readers (like my anonymous poster) would label beyond redemption. At the same time, I have seen “good, law-abiding” friends and family show unforgiveness and lack mercy and empathy to an extent usually reserved for your worst enemy.

            I began with a story about Jesus and the blind man and asking the wrong question instead of looking at what God can do. It isn’t a physical deficiency that holds us back; it is the hardness of our spirit. The greatest gift I’ve received in this trial is seeing the world through opened, “freed” if you would, eyes. That’s why I’m able to smile when I read the anonymous poster’s response and why I look forward to exchanging personal correspondence with the writer.

 

Justice - A Thought

This past week Pope Benedict XVI made an emotional visit to Rome’s main prison.  The Pontiff – the spiritual head of the one billion member Roman Catholic Church – used his visit to call attention to the plight of the incarcerated.

“Inmates are human beings who, despite their crimes, deserve to be treated with respect and dignity…They need our concern.”

The Pope urged the government to “overhaul the system so that prisoners are not subjected to a ‘double punishment’ by serving time in insufferable conditions”.  And, in an even more eye-popping statement, he said justice is not just about righting a wrong, but also showing mercy.

“For God…there’s no just action that isn’t also an act of mercy and forgiveness, and at the same time there’s no merciful action that isn’t perfectly just.”

Pope Benedict called on the Italian government to ease prison overcrowding and have alternatives to detention.  The Cabinet followed with a sweeping prison reform measure that will release thousands of low custody offenders.

Where, I wonder, are the moral voices in this state and this country – a nation, ironically, who professes to be overwhelmingly Christian and yet misses the crucial tenets of the Savior’s message?

Prior to his death, Apple founder Steve Jobs explained his difficulty with Christians.  “Too many Christians”, he said, “don’t want to live like Christ”.  I’ve pondered that thought for months.  What, I wonder; would Jesus say about the men in here?  What would Jesus say about our society’s “lock em up and throw away the key” attitude?

It was Jesus who was imprisoned and condemned to death for healing the sick and lame, and spreading a message of mercy, grace and salvation.  I’ve discovered during these three and a half years that while society may condemn felons the Lord opens His arms to us.  There is a reason that prophets and psalmists and apostles stated over and over “He comes to set the prisoners free”. 

As the New Year begins I pray the leaders of the Commonwealth of Virginia and this Nation take the words set forth by Pope Benedict to heart.  Justice, without mercy, is not just.  Virginia’s prison system, America’s prison system, is inhuman and unChristlike.  It is time for a new way of thinking.  It is time to set many of us free.

General Human Tendency

Another college semester got underway last week and I found myself serving as a TA (teacher’s aide) once again for the wonderful English professor “Dr. Y”.  Dr. Y is an early sixties African American woman who captured the hearts of our IT students last semester with her energy and unbridled enthusiasm.

Prior to Wednesday’s class, I was helping her set up the classroom and made idle chit chat with her.  I asked her where she went to school and she mentioned the university my ex and my circle of friends all work at.  I told her my connection to the school and she suddenly lit up.  “I know you Larry.  My husband was Jimmy.”

We then discussed her husband who worked for one of my closest friends.  Jimmy died suddenly a few years ago.  The campus was in deep mourning.  Then, Dr. Y and her family walked in.  They had a look of joy on their faces that transcended the grief in the room.  They were a family of deep faith.  Jimmy was a pastor on weekends.  To them, his death would be a celebration of his life and his call to the Lord.

I wanted to speak to her further, but it was time for class.  We began with an essay on “mature reasoning” and the use of argument – well reasoned argument – to persuade.  A quote jumped out of the piece:

“The general human tendency is to have the strongest opinions on matters which we know the least.”

What does that mean?  To me, it says we take rigid position on the subjects we know the least about.

Dr. Y stopped and looked at the class.  She spoke directly from her heart to these fourteen associate degree candidates enrolled in her English class. She said,

“Before I came here six months ago, I thought I knew about prison.  The first night here I was deathly afraid.  But then, I experienced teaching in here and realized I was wrong.”

Every man in the room broke out in a smile.  “The general human tendency.”  Four interesting words.  I have received an education in humility these past three years.  I have seen moments of unspeakable cruelty and I have seen men show others more compassion than I’d ever seen from my “free days” with good, church going folk.  I have seen people put their faith in action and act more Christ like than anything I’ve seen before.

Prison is a terrible place.  And, the people who understand how wasteful, how dehumanizing, what a failure the system is are the ones who work here and do time here.  There are some who respond to this blog with curt “well they broke the law…” or “they deserve…”  That complete lack of empathy misses the mark.  There is a great deal of neglect and despair behind the walls and society, if we profess to be truly civilized, must figure out a way to do better.

The “general human tendency” is to accept that “the way things are” are that way for a good reason.  My incarceration and spiritual journey tells me that’s not so.   Jesus spent his entire ministry turning the law as understood by the “good people” upside down.  When He dined with the tax collectors and harlots a Pharisee chastised him.  Jesus replied “I desire compassion and not sacrifice”.  Put another way, “I seek mercy, not law”.

The vast majority of us in here deserve punishment for what we did.  But there is another side to each of us.  Dr. Y has seen that there is good in a lot of the men in this place.  She overcame her general human tendency and kept her heart and mind open.  The students benefit from that and so does she.

As I was leaving class with her, Dr. Y pulled me aside.  “I’m so thankful God gave me the chance to come in here.”  Then she looked at me and said “You should be too.  You have a good heart.  It’s been opened up more by these men.”

I learned a great deal Wednesday night about faith and mercy.  I’m convinced, as Dr. Y learned; we can all overcome our general human tendency and reserve our opinions until we gain knowledge and mercy.

Easter 2011

It is a week before Easter and I’ve been reflecting on what that really means. In my “other” life I never gave Easter much thought. I accepted on faith it was “the day”, but really it was more a chance to go to church as a family, make disapproving glances at the “twice a year” churchgoers, and have a nice meal. When the boys were small we’d hide eggs and put Easter baskets together. Family and friends would come over and we’d eat, we’d drink and we’d say a rote blessing thanking God for our “good” life.



In 2009, I spent my first Easter away from my family. I was struggling, just weeks removed from my sentencing, and I heard the judge’s pronouncement ringing in my head. I wondered if God had pulled a fast one on me when He convinced me not to take the “easy way out”.


What kept me going was a belief that I’d be the recipient of an Easter miracle. About two weeks before Easter, a friend came to the jail for a visit. He and his wife were part of our “circle of couples”, those three or four families that seemed to do everything together. I confided in my friend that I believed an Easter miracle was coming. “She’ll come see me. She’ll tell me she loves me and appreciates me signing everything over. She’ll tell me our marriage will endure this.” My friend looked at me and just smiled.


The Friday before Easter, I received a letter from her. It was not what I expected. “You told [insert name here] you expected an Easter miracle. You’re a f---ing idiot! I’ll never come see you. Why would I be interested in you? You have nothing; your credit is ruined; you owe millions; you’re a convicted felon. You’re not much of a catch”. And those were the nice parts of the letter!


“The tomb is empty.”


I remember spending the reminder of the weekend and the next week in a fog. Each night as I lay down, her words scrolled through my head. “Happy Easter”, I thought. God so loved me that He allowed me to be utterly destroyed. And, to make matters worse, He waited until after I promised to see it through before He really put the screws to me. Resurrection was just a word.


Everyone pretty much knows the rest of the story: An angel appeared and convinced me I was needed. My wife realized I was a good man and organized our friends to help me. I was leading a wonderful life. Wait a minute, that’s not what happened to me. That’s Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed in “It’s A Wonderful Life”.


No, my “Easter miracle” went from her “love” letter to having my motion to reconsider my sentence being denied. The Judge “misplaced” my paperwork for seven weeks leading me to foolishly conclude he was seriously considering my request. Instead, he lazily scribbled one sentence to my original sentencing order. Within two days of getting that “good news”, my wife, my soulmate, the love of my life, served divorce papers on me that reserved her right to later ask for alimony and child support (I guess she wanted to cover all the bases. When you get everything without asking you might as well ask for more). In one of my few displays of humor at the time, I told a friend at least she didn’t ask for organ donations or blood (as Bob Dylan said “I gave her my heart, but she wanted my soul”).


Yeah, Easter 2009 was, in my humble opinion, a crock. And, things continued on their downward spiral. I was transferred to DOC Receiving and learned my marriage of twenty-eight years was legally dissolved on the twenty-ninth anniversary of our first date. Of the few friends I had left, a couple of them dropped off the map. I apparently couldn’t be as much fun behind bars as I was when I was the life of the party on the outside. And, I would learn later, my newly declared ex-wife was so traumatized by the divorce and being a single parent that she was involved with a married Canadian before the divorce was even final. Yes, 2009 sucked.


“He liveth.”


I found myself re-assigned to Lunenburg and in early 2010 I began working as an academic aide. I’d also been writing the entire time since my arrest and felt a strange pull to teach a creative writing workshop. A teacher at the school shared my vision and we began teaching creative writing. I was in the classroom, she oversaw editing pieces. By Easter 2010 I had a crazy idea to start this blog.


Truth be told, 2010 was another lousy year: more heartache and pain from the divorce; no contact with my sons; a few more of my dwindling number of friends abandoning me. But, I held on. I remained for the most part, hopeful. I knew things couldn’t – theoretically – get any worse. And, people I came in contact with were actually thankful for my efforts.


I started 2011 convinced miracles were coming. Just like ’09, I was kicked in the teeth. All those feeling of utter despair and hopelessness came charging back to me just as they hit me at Easter 2009: my ex, my sons, my life, all gone never to come back. I was being drowned in a tidal wave of disappointment, abandonment and rejection. One thing, however, was different. This time I knew I wasn’t alone.


I thought about something Paul wrote in his second letter to the Corinthians. He said “we do not lose heart”. In Modern English it goes like this:


“So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without His unfolding grace.”


I thought about the Easter story. Palm Sunday, Jesus rode into Jerusalem as a hero, the Messiah come to save Israel. Within five days He was betrayed, abandoned and given over to the authorities. He was beaten mercilessly and publicly executed. His followers scattered fearful that they would know the same fate, ashamed that they sold him out.


There on the cross Jesus was executed with two criminals. Then one said to him “you don’t deserve this. I do. Remember me.” Jesus did.


Easter is about miracles. It may not be the miracle of brining my ex-wife and sons back to me; it may not get me released early; but I’m like the criminal on the cross. I made a mess of things but God still loved me enough to remember me and give me a new life.


Knowing that, I won’t ever give up hope. I won’t ever lose heart. Happy Easter!

On Writing Inside

The school principal recently asked me to oversee the creation of a literary magazine with the intended purpose of giving budding writers in here an avenue to share their stories and poems with larger prison communities.



As part of that undertaking, I thought a fair amount about why I write. I’m frequently asked by guys not just “what are you writing” but “why do you spend so much time writing?” The following blog, “Writing Inside” tries to briefly explain the reason behind all this.


I frequently am deeply moved by the responses I receive from readers of the blog. As you’ve noticed, sometimes I even respond. Every time, I take what is written to me to heart.


This past week I received two very moving, thought provoking response from an “Anonymous” reader (I’m not sure if they are from one or two different readers). Both entries deeply moved me in ways that will remain personal to me for the time being. But, I want “Anonymous” (or Anonymi) to know how much those two pieces meant to me.


I was told recently by one of the teachers with whom I work that I have “a fascinating life story”. I told her the truth is we all have fascinating life stories. I have met so many remarkable men (and women) during these past three years. I’ve even co-opted some of their stories for short stories I write (Hint to any literary agents: I have a series of short stories available).


Life, I’ve learned, is not static. It constantly moves forward and each day brings new challenges. As “Anonymous” reminded me last week, we have to remember how blessed we are everyday, even in our trials. I found a brief, anonymous prayer the other day that really made me think: “Lord, help me to accept those things I don’t always understand.”


One final thought. In Big S’s Modern Language Bible I stumbled across a passage that stopped me. As Jesus was explaining his objection to the Pharisee’s reliance on Moses’ Certificates of Divorce (how ironic I stopped there!), it said the following: “You rely on man’s law rather than God’s moral requirement.”


I try and live righteously in here. I realize this is a tough environment to live that way. But, it’s perhaps tougher outside. Rationalization may help us sleep (I used it for twelve years), but it doesn’t change what the Lord requires from us – to love, to forgive and to live in righteous obedience.

Bob's Singin: Is Anyone Listenin?

My cousin wrote me and mentioned her stepson and his wife had been to see Bob Dylan in concert and he was “unintelligible”. I’m a huge Dylan fan and used to say you could understand anything in life with a Dylan song or baseball.



I think about Dylan lyrics quite frequently in here. Somehow a great deal of what Dylan wrote makes sense when you’re locked up, deprived of your freedom.


Here’s a thought: incarceration is an inhuman punishment. With very few exceptions (sociopathic personalities), the vast majority of men and women in prison could be rehabilitated without incarceration or substantially shorter sentences.


For most men and women locked up, prison is a debilitating mind breaking, soul breaking experience. I read an interesting article recently by an African American Washington Post writer bemoaning the fact rappers who have done time talk about how “bad” they were in the system. Fact is prison alters you in so many ways; for most men and women, the changes are for the worse.


“How many roads must a man walk down
Before you will call him a man
How many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand
How many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they are forever banned . . . .”


There are some who fight the despair and refuse to give up their freedom of self, of consciousness. They fight against becoming institutionalized.


I have had the privilege of meeting a small group of men like that. They accept responsibility for their crimes, yet never give up learning, never give up striving, never give up hoping for freedom. Though some are murderers, some armed robbers, and drug dealers; they are more humble, compassionate, and caring than any other men I’ve known. They have become more than brothers to me.


Prisons are poorly run and insufficiently equipped to handle the vast majority of societal ills that are comingled behind their walls. Even at a place like this, a lower custody, dormitory style center, the inmates act with each other and staff in a Darwinian ballet. The strongest prey on the weakest; intellect only sometimes overcomes physical strength; the sick and infirmed get worse.


But, prisons are big business. In 2011 it is estimated the federal and state prison systems will spend over $55 billion to operate its prisons. That is more than is projected to be spent by U.S. Forces in Iraq.


“How many years can a mountain exist
Before it is washed to the sea
How many years can a people exist
Before they’re allowed to be free
How many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn’t see . . .”


We claim to be a moral country, a moral people, yet we maintain a criminal justice system that leads the world in the number of people behind bars. I wonder how a nation, so committed to spreading freedom and justice worldwide can fail so miserably ensuring it within its own borders.


A majority of Americans consider themselves “Christian”. They fail to realize that the religion they profess to follow is diametrically opposite the lifestyle they lead. Consider that the vast majority of the New Testament, that portion of the Bible dedicated to spreading the word about the resurrected Jesus was written by men in and out of prison. Almost every one of Paul’s Epistles were written behind bars. An elderly John wrote the Book of Revelation while imprisoned on the Island of Patmos doing hard labor. Peter, Stephen, James and hundreds others were imprisoned, tortured, and killed by the powers that be.


We forget that those men who today we consider saints, were “back in the day”, criminals, human garbage, troublemakers. They challenged the societal norms and domestic order of the world’s only superpower, a nation-state more dominant than any in the history of humankind. They challenged a religious order and doctrine that placed greater emphasis on law than grace, a religious establishment that arrogantly held its followers superior to any other.


Do you every wonder why Jesus told his disciples to forgive “seventy times seven?” Do you ever wonder why He told the crowd how they treat “the least of my brothers” is how they shall be judged (and He included those in prison)? Do you ever ask yourself why Paul, in prison, told the Ephesians to “forgive as Christ forgave you?”


These men, these saints of the faith most Americans profess, were societal outcasts, misfits, problems. It was easier for the Roman and Jewish authorities to imprison them, stone them, hack them to pieces, or crucify them than deal with them.


I live with twelve hundred misfits, degenerates, drug addicts, murderers, drunks, mentally challenged men. We are part of 40,000 Virginia outcasts, part of three million criminals, losers, problems, kept confined in despicable conditions. Most have given up and accept that being treated like this for what they did is Karma, their fate. But some refuse. They don’t sit quietly. They shout out “I am a child of God, I will be free!”


“How many times must a man look up
Before he sees the sky
How many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry
How many deaths will it take ‘til he knows
Too many people have died
The answer, my friend is blowin in the wind . . . .”


Bob’s singin and I’m hearing every word. It is a call to action, a call to change, a call to address the ills we see. Prison reform must occur. Too many lives are being squandered; too many resources being wasted. The choice is up to each person. Do we do what we profess and ‘trust in the Lord with all our heart” or do we keep doing the same thing, locking people up, damaging them, making them worse. There has to be a better way.


The price we will pay for keeping things “as is” will be more in prison, more broken families, more children raised without fathers, more disparity.


Bob’s singin. I wonder how many are listening. We need to change now or “a hard rain’s gonna fall.”

Word Powers

I had an interesting conversation with another tutor this week. His name is Powers. He’s a 38 year old black man from Brooklyn who’s been locked up almost twenty years with ten more to go. He murdered a man in Northern Virginia. He makes no bones about what he did. He killed the guy. He’ll do his sentence. Murder one. Thirty years for mandatory parole.



Powers and I are both tutors in the same class. When I first met him I was extremely intimidated by him. He speaks very seldom and usually has a serious expression. I, quite frankly, in my bias saw him as a very angry black man. I concluded he hated whites.


I’ve gotten to know Powers in the past two months. He’s a student in my creative writing class. He’s extremely bright, well read and has a wickedly precise sense of humor. In short, every pre-conceived notion I had about him has been turned on its head.


In writing class the other day I was discussing our assigned reading: Joseph Conrad’s “The Lagoon”. My beginning writing class has 19 participants, all black. The guys were very quiet as I asked them about Conrad’s themes and character descriptions.


“So you hated the story,” I said. Powers spoke up. He pointed out Conrad’s eurocentric writing style and how the lengthy short story drug on. “OK”, I said. I then told a new story about two brothers working for the largest drug dealer in Miami. One brother catches a look at the drug boss’s girl and decides he has to have her. He and his brother grab the girl. The boss finds out and he and a group of armed thugs chase the brothers and girl all over South Beach.


The one brother decides to make a stand while the other, with the girl, gets away. All we hear is the brother screaming through a hail of gunfire.


Later, we see the other brother hiding out in a dump of an apartment. The girl lies on a bed beside him taking her last breaths. The brother has lost everything.


The guys sat transfixed as I spun this story of covetousness, disloyalty and lust. I then said “That’s Conrad’s story. I just put it in a modern context”.


Powers spoke to me after class. He told me all the guys like the stories I tell. I’ve known for a good while that I can tell a story and, candidly, I have 51 years of them. Plus, I’m not one to hold back. I put the good, bad, and ugly of my life out there, whether it be the failure of my marriage, my arrest or my views on things.


Powers told me he respected me. “You’ve kept your head up in spite of all the bullshit.” He added a distinct “but”. And that was when I learned his “philosophy” on a number of issues.


Take his view on selfless, unconditional love. “There’s a reason they put Jesus on the cross. He was selfless. You give it all, no conditions, you’re gonna get screwed.” He explained this to me so I’d understand my giving everything up to my wife and kids was, well, “plain stupid”. He said “people always say they admire selfless people. There’s a reason you see it so seldom. It’s because people are self-centered. They play each other. Honestly look how your wife played you. You did the ‘right thing’, the ‘noble thing’ and got kicked in the ass.”


“You’re probably right,” I told him. “But, I’d do it again, no matter what the result.” Powers smiled and said “that’s what I like about you, eternal optimist.”


He told me he became a Muslim after concluding “Christians profess belief in a God who has one simple rule: love and forgive each other.” He had me there. I look at all the men I serve time with. I look at my own circumstances, the family and friends who cut me loose, abandoned and betrayed me, the folks who are so bitter and angry and I have to conclude most us don’t have a clue what it means to be a Christian.


“But, people can change, “I told him. Fact is, I like the person I’ve become. I’m a lot wiser, more humble, more compassionate, more forgiving, than I ever was before my arrest. If you would have told me ten years ago I’d be not just content, but happy, tutoring men to earn their GED’s, I’d have laughed at you.


“Yeah a lot of people let me down. I’m hurt. But I can accept it, still love them, and move on day by day.”


We talked about respect being an overused word in prison. How one of the failures of the “system” in sending so many people to prison is that you now have thousands of young guys doing short bids; two, three, maybe four years at a time. Prison becomes “just a place to go”. Those guys by and large lack respect for anybody or anything. The vast majority of problems in low custody facilities such as this are from these “short time” guys. Act like they do here at a higher security level and you’ll find yourself beaten to a bloody pulp or shanked.


The strange thing about my talk with Powers is though we are from entirely different worlds and I disagree with him on much of what he says, I find him to be a decent guy. He clearly is a man of character and substance.


He killed a man. He is serving his sentence. Yet, he has developed into a complex man. He is a man I respect. I can see beyond his crime committed almost twenty years ago. I consider Powers my friend. I need to tell him he was wrong. Sometimes you can put prejudice and bias aside and see the real person.

Thou Shalt . . .

I finished running the other afternoon and headed back from the track to sit on the benches outside our building door. It was a beautiful, crisp fall afternoon. While sitting there I saw another inmate jog back to the building. He stood on our basketball court and faced east. He then began to call, in an Arabic chant, his fellow Muslims to prayer. Within a minute or so five other inmates came to the court and they began their afternoon prayers. I bowed my head and prayed as well.



That evening and the night following, USA Today ran interesting stories on our ignorance about our own faith and our views on God. The troubling story: most Christians know little about Christianity and the Bible. Atheists, Muslims, Jews and Mormons know more Christian doctrine, than Protestants or Catholics (and Catholics, you guys score the lowest).


In the other piece, people’s views of God were placed in four different categories. Most Americans view God as either “critical” (i.e. passing judgment) or “benevolent” (loving, forgiving, helping).


As I thought about the discipline I see exhibited daily by the Muslim inmates, I began to consider both stories and my own faith experience while in here.


I was a poor Christian before my arrest. I grew up in a “church family”. We went every week; my folks still do. But, we never read the Bible. Candidly, I never read the Bible until I was locked up. Then, I read it cover to cover, highlighting and underlining verses and words, memorizing lines and parables, and psalms.


My wife and I went to church each Sunday. She taught Sunday school. We were both church elders. Our kids grew up in the church. I knew doctrine, but I didn’t know what it meant to have a real relationship with God.


Then, I got arrested and my life came crashing down. My church family abandoned me. My minister refused to visit me in jail (“I don’t want to get in the middle of their marital issues”); only three members ever wrote me, and my wife ignored her vows and Jesus’ teaching on divorce and ended our marriage.


In spite of all that, slowly I began to heal, find peace and joy. I realized how wrong I had been about so many things. I read and reread Psalms, Epistles, Gospels and I learned and believed.


I’m one of those who think God is benevolent. I believe we all fall short, we all fail, we all deserve condemnation. Yet, somehow God loves us anyway. He forgives us and if we just trust Him, He’ll see us through.


Having said that, I have a sobering thought for anyone who considers themselves a good Christian: it’s a whole lot tougher than just going to church.


The key, when all is said and done, is forgiveness. That doesn’t mean saying “I forgive you, but I’ll never forget”. No, it means forgiving and forgetting.


Jesus spoke over and over about forgiveness in the Gospel of Matthews. Words like this in chapter 6: “If you forgive, your Father in heaven will also forgive you . . . If you do not forgive, your Father will not forgive you”.


Or how about chapter 18 when Peter asks if he had to forgive someone seven times. Imagine his surprise when Jesus said “you must forgive seventy times seven” then makes the point with the parable about the unforgiving servant.


I still sit there stunned and in awe each time I read those passages. I realized I had no justifiable reason to be angry at anyone. I had made a mess out of my life. I hurt terribly the woman I loved and my two sons. Yet, I know I’ve been forgiven by my God. If I could be forgiven for what I did, how could I not do the same?


Back in August I had to decide whether I would file suit against my former employer. With two other “disgraced” lawyers, I fashioned a unique argument about their handling of my arrest and events leading up to it. I knew all the company “dirt”, the questionable financial activity, the “who’s sleeping with who”. The point of the suit was to be to bring heat on them. I finally told the guys I couldn’t do it. I let it go.


The saddest experience in my life has not been the arrest, conviction, and imprisonment. It was my wife divorcing me and telling me she no longer loved me. I never really got angry, but the hurt cut me deeply.


I’m still sad, always will be. But, I found a way to unload so much of the pain. Now, I only have those wonderful memories of our time together. Do I wish we were still together? Yes. Do I miss her? More than words can express. But, I’ll be OK. I’m at peace.


She was a wonderful companion. She is an amazing woman. In my heart, I will always love her. I can’t really worry about why she did what she did. She had her reasons.


In multiple places the Bible references God “setting the prisoners free”. Each of us, when we let anger, bitterness, and sorrow consume us are imprisoned.


We all could pay better attention to our faith. We all could be more forgiving, more loving, more kind. If we were, the prisons would be less filled, marriages stronger, families more stable and we’d all feel better.


Prison sucks, but I’m blessed. Perhaps that’s the key to all of this, to finding joy in any circumstance. And perhaps, if we realize God loves us, we can love and forgive those that hurt us and all be really free.