Despite always feeling this gut-level, or perhaps spirit-led, call to prison ministry, I always ignored it. Because any time I seriously considered it, the first thought that came to my mind was one of doubt: “Who am I? What do I have to offer?”
As a white, college educated, woman who grew up in suburbia going into a medium security men’s prison, I thought I would be laughed out of the room. I questioned my worth, my skills, my ability.
Getting over this hurdle took the chaplain from MCI-Concord coming to the CSTM to share his ethos of prison ministry: No matter who you are, no matter where you come from or what your story is, you are welcome, you are wanted, and you have something to offer.
So I said yes to the call. My first time going through security, I realized there was truly nothing to offer but my presence. Nothing is allowed in. No notes, technology, plans. My resume, my academic prowess, my skills meant nothing here.
The first inmate walked in and shook my hand, looked me straight in the eye and introduced himself. I did the same. “Sarah. Thank you for coming. I am so happy you are here. Welcome to our chapel.”
I did not “bring anything” to the table. Rather the inmates, in a place where they are given so little agency, found ways to give of themselves.:
Through hospitality: Carl brings me a cup of water every week, Tom offers muffins with his own money and calls me his sister in Christ, Kyle gives me his own rosary to pray with.
Through solidarity: When they ask how they can pray for me, and then check in the following week about it: “Sarah how is your brother? We’ve been praying for him all week. How was the retreat? How was your friend's surgery?” When they align with a fellow inmate who is struggling, relapsing, disheartened, freely giving of themselves.
Through humility: When they find the courage to assert their own dignity, worth, and belovedness despite being abused by a system that seeks to degrade, dehumanize, strip away. When they share poems they write about grief, pain. When they ask for help, reminding me “even Jesus needed help carrying the cross.”
This is not to romanticize prison. There is nothing romantic about it. There is anger, frustration, trauma, and injustice. Our group, Prison Ministry Initiative works to grow in awareness, educate, and consider our role in the broken carceral system.
But grace is abundant in the Chapel of MCI-Concord and God is present in these men.. They desire to be seen, known, listened to. My invitation is this: if you feel any pull to prison ministry, don’t second guess it. Bring yourself and that is enough.