“I was in prison and you visited me…” News and Notes from St. Martin’s Social Justice & Outreach Committee
“I was in prison and you visited me…”
This month’s discussion about Matthew 25 focuses on what it means to answer the call of visiting a person in prison. Our very own Bob Polkinghorn has been visiting men in a prison hospice setting for over six years and kindly agreed to answer a few questions about his experiences for this month’s SJO News and Notes.
What does it mean to visit a prisoner or participate in a prisoner ministry? What does it look like?
I meet weekly with men who are housed at the state prison called the California Medical Facility (CMF). It is located in Vacaville. Entering CMF means encountering barbed wire fences, clanging gates, identity check points, along with guards wearing bullet proof vests and carrying guns and tasers—an imposing environment to say the least. All the men in this facility are serving either life sentences, some without the possibility of parole, or 25 years-to-life sentences. Many have been “down” for 30+ years. These men are terminally ill, and in some cases, actively dying.
I typically visit with six to eight men over the span of a couple of hours, sometimes more. Each person, like us, is different. Some like to talk about sports or their special interests (drawing and music often come up), where they grew up, school and/or military experiences, jobs they had both in and out of prison, classes they took while in the prison system, etc. A few have families they are in touch with and will share stories about times gone by. Some talk about their plans if and when they “get a date” (meaning they are recommended for parole). Very rarely will the men talk about their crime/s. It’s an unwritten rule never to ask anyone about that.
Some ask for prayer, or will respond positively if I ask if I could pray with them or for them. Some avoid conversation, though not many.
If there is someone who is actively dying, then we generally say very little. Just being present, holding their hand, telling them that they are loved, and/or quietly praying is often just the right thing at this time. I’ve learned to just follow my heart…let God lead.
What drew you to this ministry and have your feelings about it changed over time?
I had been doing hospice volunteer work for many years before shifting to prison hospice ministry in 2016. At the time, I was facing some pretty serious health issues and needed to be strong, even fearless. I decided that to be strong, I needed to put myself in new situations where I could “practice “ being strong, even if I was afraid. I thought of it as a way to build mental and emotional strength. I can only say that I heard God’s call and simply followed, no matter what.
The meaning I derive from my prison ministry has evolved over time. In the earliest days it meant learning to trust God to lead me into spaces and relationships that were completely new, and on some level, frightening. Now, the meaning I find resides in discovering God’s divine love and goodness in every person I am blessed to meet with. I have realized over time that what someone did 10, 20, even 30 years ago has no relevance to me whatsoever. God is teaching me to love and not to judge – to be present and to honor everyone’s basic humanity.
What has been the hardest or most challenging part of participating in a prison ministry?
One of the hardest parts of this ministry is leaving the hospice every time I visit. The patients’ needs are beyond what any of us can really know or understand. And I acknowledge that I can only do a little bit in the big scheme of things to support my brothers who are sick and dying. I don’t like leaving, as it saddens me to think of just how much need exists and how few social-emotional resources are available to the patients.
Another hard part is seeing so many patients who have been stripped of their identity, their dignity, and their self-worth from their years of living in the prison culture. By design, the prison administration and custody staff (guards) do everything legally possible to take away one’s personhood. Prison clothing is a blue shirt and sweatpants with “PRISONER” printed in bright yellow on the legs. They are called by their last name only and have near zero degrees of freedom in terms of what they are expected to be doing at any one time, day or night. Any backtalk or small infraction of the rules can easily and often does lead to a range of consequences, including being placed in “the hole” (solitary) for any number of days. Sadly, most of the men are simply numb to all this. It’s hard to see.
I often tell my family and friends who inquire about this ministry that we may think of ourselves as “completely different” from the inmates at CMF, or even “better than.” My experience tells me without equivocation: We are not different…we are the same. We are one with all our brothers and sisters.
Would you encourage others to get involved in this ministry?
I would encourage anyone who hears God’s call to serve in this ministry. A willingness to suspend prior assumptions about the incarcerated and prisons is especially helpful. My service in this ministry has been one of the most enriching, humbling experiences of my life. I would be happy to talk with anyone who has even an inkling of an interest.
