The River Church Community

bLoG6: To The Cement Cage

I felt slightly nervous as I biked to the Santa Clara’s juvenile hall.  The man at the front bars (it is hardly a front desk) paged the head chaplain and I waited.  I waited with a few other people—one middle-aged women likely waiting to see her incarcerated son and one younger man, likely an older brother.  The wait to enter made me wonder how painful it must be to wait to get out.  At least I could leave—not so the boys I came to see.

When the chaplain arrived, she gave me a brief informative tour.  One could not say that it was good.  “Good” could imply enjoyable—but that would be far from the case.  We saw solitary confinement cement boxes in which inmates are “stored” for up to 23 hours a day if those with power deem them “unsafe” or “security risks.”  And I am sure that some of them are.  But did you know that a boy or girl could be denied educational rights if they are put in one of these cement boxes.   No multiplication tables, no Huck Finn, no biology…almost nothing.  But I digress…

First we went to B8.  (B= boys, 8 signifies maximum security, I think).  Here reside the boys with futures seriously unknown.  They are in maximum security for serious offences (murder, rape, etc).   I have worked with kids like this enough to know that they are here for a reason but I also realize that many of them are just kids.  The chaplain told me that she worked with a 14 year old for three years in the maximum-security block as he waited for his trial to be completed.  When his verdict was released, this 14-year-old gang kid received three life sentences and will never walk an American sidewalk again.  Michele Foucault once wrote, "Justice must always question itself."  My question is "does she?"

As I chatted with one of the youth, I was struck by his faith.  The only book he owns is the bible and you can tell that he has made good use of it.  In their cells, they are not allowed to have pens or pencils or anything they could uses for a weapon (which I might add, given their creativity, is almost anything).  As we talked, he played the chaplain’s guitar.  I recognized the tune immediately: stairway to heaven.  It felt ironic.  We all know this song is a “drug song” but for him it seemed to be a resurrected drug song—a song that once alluded to drugs that now alludes to the Father who has forgiven him in heaven.  As he strummed, he spoke of how “limitless” he felt within his cell.  I could not help but feel humbled by this young man’s faith—limitless, really?  In a cement cell, unable to leave the small maximum-security area.  Visiting him that would have been the last word I used to describe his situation.  But such is faith, I guess.  It reminded me of Paul words (“I pray with joy”) as he sat imprisoned (see Philippians).  I guess the chaplain was right—the spirit of Jesus of alive and well in prison. 

Next we went to B4 (the boys mental health division).  We sang songs—lean on me, amazing grace and others.  One volunteer adapted “I got five on it” (about marijuana) to “I got Christ on it” and had all the kids singing with him.  It was clearly healing for them to sing.  It is profoundly moving to worship in an oppressive environment.  In the mental health area, suicide risk is a serious and daily issue.  And in the midst of this depressed environment, young boys are singing, “Through many dangers, toils and snares we have already come. T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far and Grace will lead us home.”  Even though these young men are imprisoned in cement cages and suffering from extreme mental illness, they sing to Jesus, the embodiment of grace—the one who offers them hope.  There are few things as beautiful as this.  In a room of hardened young boys, I held back my tears….what a glorious gospel.

Tony, Pastor of Mission Mobilization