PRISON MINISTRY – - – AN INTERFAITH ENDEAVOR
Some fifty miles northwest of Chicago in the old town of Woodstock, Illinois, the McHenry County Correctional Facility—a nice way to say “jail”—is the temporary home of an average two hundred men and women who are foreign nationals. These persons have had the misfortune to fall into the hand of ICE, the federal Immigration and Customs Enforcement of the Homeland Security Administration. In the parlance of the mostly Latino detainees, it is known as “La Migra”. The detainees find themselves locked up and far from family and friends as they contemplate their options, or lack thereof. Most face deportation, either voluntary or forced. Some few have paid a fine of $5,000 and hope that a sympathetic judge will hear their case and permit them to return to their life in the United States where they may have lived for decades, have married, held jobs and have had children born as American citizens.
The folks in the jail have been detained for a variety of reasons. Yes, some few have committed felonies such as drug trafficking or domestic violence. These have served sentences in state and county jails but the ICE was waiting for them as they walked past the gates and they were immediately remanded to prisons like the McHenry institution to await deportation. Some were picked up on DUI charges but more were stopped by the authorities as they drove to work and were found to be without valid drivers’ licenses. The saddest cases are of the people who were apprehended at their place of work or even through home invasion. A Honduran lady described to me through her tears how she and her husband were dragged from their bed at five in the morning in Louisville, Kentucky by ICE officers who were following a newly aggressive enforcement policy. She and her husband were forced to leave behind their three small children including a one year-old who was born with only one kidney and who needed special medication and attention. Now, weeping, she has no idea where her husband is imprisoned and only hopes that her children are being cared for and can accompany her when she is repatriated to Honduras.
The common “crime” of all these people is that they are in the United States without proper documentation. Some entered as tourists and remained after their visitor’s visa had expired; some even had the treasured “green card” but had lost it for committing a felony or a series of misdemeanors; many, particularly the Mexicans and Central Americans workers, had crossed our southern borders illegally. Some of the saddest cases are of men and women who have been in the United States for twenty or more years and who didn’t take advantage of the Reagan Era amnesty and thus advance through the stages of nationalization. The net result for all is imprisonment, loss of liberty, separation from family and the harsh conditions of prison life.
Enter here two Mercy Sisters, JoAnn Persch and Pat Murphy, both long involved in advocacy issues for Hispanic immigrants, especially from their years at “Su Casa” on Chicago’s southwest side. There they housed and aided Central Americans who were victims of torture in their homelands, Later, the Sisters assisted entire families from Mexico. The two Religious, working now from the Mercy Justice and Peace Office, had heard the “cry of the poor”, the hopeless situation of immigrants who had come to our country for a better, more secure, life for themselves and their loved ones. Sisters JoAnn and Pat began to lobby the State of Illinois legislators to pass laws guaranteeing access to detainees in order to provide spiritual and pastoral services. Words like “persistent”, “intrepid”, “dogged”, even “undaunted” come to mind to describe how the Sisters would buttonhole the individual legislators in Springfield. One can almost picture these elected officials ducking behind doors and around corners to get away from these determined women. Their efforts paid off. A law ensuring pastoral access to foreign detainees in state (not federal) correctional institutions was passed without a single dissenting vote. A precedent for the whole nation!
Through their justice and peace advocacy and, especially, in dealing with statewide issues, the Sisters came to know many other individuals and groups, including religious congregations and organizations. These friendships and mutual concerns for immigrants within a short while took shape as an ecumenical, pastoral effort to visit and comfort the detainees being held for deportation at the McHenry County Correctional facility. The core group was composed of Roman Catholics, Lutherans, Evangelical congregations and Jewish rabbis. To date no imam has joined the group for the occasional muslim detainee. The group set about looking for additional members, particularly Spanish speakers, to bolster their numbers and form four separate teams, one for each Tuesday of the month, the day the McHenry jail has set aside for pastoral visits. Training sessions have prepared some sixty pastoral workers, subsequently vetted by authorities of the prison. The early visitation days were fraught with some tension. The guards—who have informed us that they prefer “correctional officers”—looked upon us with some suspicion, watchful that we did not infringe any of the many rules of contact with the detainees. The first detainees to take advantage of the visit even had to be reassured that we were not agents of “La Migra”.
So what takes place on those Tuesday visitation days? Each team of at least twelve pastoral workers assembles in the lobby of the prison. The members come from both Cook and McHenry counties. In an adjoining room there is a series of closed circuit televisions because, ordinarily, there is no direct contact with detainees, not even for family members. Exception to this is the concession the Sisters have won for the pastoral workers, face to face visits. In the lobby Sister JoAnn often must inform us of some new regulation or caution handed down by the prison authority. We are duly vetted by officers and given clip-on IDs. Metal objects and even such innocent material as string longer than a foot must be put away in lockers before passing through metal detectors and escorted by officers through a series of heavy metal doors and up to the small, windowless prison library. There we hasten to set out printed psalms and prayers, pencils (which must be collected after each session), lists and forms to be filled out and reading material in English, Spanish and Polish which has previously been “approved” by the authorities and has had the staples removed. We have been fortunate recently to distribute Bibles in English and Spanish and the detainees clamor for these.
Finally, the first group of detainees, the women, is ushered in. Their stories are often the most heart rending. They sit on the outer side of the U-shaped tables with the pastoral ministers on the inside. Handshakes are permitted but if a detainee wants to give the classic Hispanic “abrazo” or hug, the watchful officer will immediately step in. Our “presence” is what is most important, introducing ourselves, learning their names and listening to their story, asking about health issues, taking down telephone numbers of family and contacts to call with whatever message they wish to send, and finally, praying with them and entering their names and intentions on prayer lists for the convents and congregations that continue to remember their intentions in prayer. They ask for prayers for themselves but even more, for their families and for each other. A bit of money for soap, toothpaste, etc. for those who have nothing is passed on to the prison authorities. Legal advice is not to be given but on occasion the team members offer to be present when the detainees are called before the immigrations judges in Chicago, a purely moral support.
How to evaluate the impact of these visits? It is difficult to say but we do have the constant “thank yous” of the men and women detained. Tears and laughter are frequent elements of the visits. Another indicator is the growth of the program: extra time has been added by the authorities to accommodate the more than ninety persons who sign up each week. The average visit is only of fifteen to twenty minutes and the pastoral minister must often listen to two or even three folks at the same time, especially for the Spanish speakers. It is a grueling day, emotionally draining, knowing that soon the majority will soon be shipped back to their home country, to an uncertain and even dangerous future. The one consolation Jesus Christ promises to both the detainees and their visitors: “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and gave you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothed you? When did we see you ill or in prison and visit you? And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25: 37-40)
Brother Martin Spellman FSC