RELIGIOUS DIVISIONS
The prison, our parish. . . beyond eucharistic celebrations and catechesis in the framework of Scripture courses, we have baptisms, visits to the sick, to families, and so on. I will speak about these last in more detail a little later on. But we have no Catholic marriages here, because of the difficulty of making the canonical inquiries (on account of the separation of the inmates from their families) and the fragility of unions contracted when the walls of a prison separate the two partners.
James A.Thomas Memorial Plaza
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It is often difficult to explain this decision to the men and women concerned, but I cannot help approving of it. For really, how can we sacramentally affirm a union in which one spouse lives inside the bars and the other outside? Before coming here some of these inmates already lived in quasi-marital partnerships. Why did they wait until they were in Rikers before asking and obtaining a religious blessing on their marriage? It is an action that involves the church too deeply for us to banalize it or weaken its fundamental vision. There remains the possibility of a legal, civil marriage, or even a religious ceremony if such is permitted by other denominations or confessions.
I cannot get involved at this point in all the implications of the question of marriage in prison. That would take us far beyond these pages. My purpose here is simply to allude to something that is often perceived as a source of scandal, and that is very difficult to accept, even here in prison -- religious division.
The inmates experience this division from the beginning of their incarceration; some of them for the first time in their lives. They do not understand why the Catholics, Baptists, Evangelicals, Protestants, Muslims, Jews each have their own celebrations. The plurality of churches, the separation of religions puzzles and disturbs them. They ask: "Why are there so many religions, so many denominations, so many individual ways to approach God?" It is a very good question, quite naturally posed one day or another when one is growing up, but here it is notoriously in peril of producing confusion. The environment here
is such that it is easy to try out all sorts of things and to give oneself all sorts of reasons for making comparisons while remaining a spectator. Separation from liberty can very easily become a separation from responsibility. What remains is only the indifference of certainty without substance. . . .
Here at Rikers, as a chaplain and a Catholic, I do not experience a single day in which I am not confronted by the harshness, the wounds, the incontrovertible evidence of religious division. In this situation there is no way of avoiding the question, or ducking a response to it. . . .
If there is a place where it is necessary to mobilize good will, spiritualities, and consciences, it is certainly in this place! To get beyond simple conviviality, where people acknowledge one another just because they are supposed to, because they are in business together, and to try to approach the state of dialogue where real encounter takes place, a meeting that happens not for the sake of gain but for the sake of moving together, not for defense or attack but for growth, is an enormous challenge for all of us. No one here can avoid this challenge. Thus the test of the chaplain is his or her credibility and effectiveness, like that of any other man or woman who is the bearer of a belief. How do we function in our lives? What really counts for us? . . . .
Other Memorials (Above) Francis R. Buono Memorial Bridge marker
Vernon C. Bain Memorial marker on Rikers (above). Bain Center jail barge, (below) seen from Rikers.
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The Raphael book has no images illustrating the text. For design and informational purposes, relevant images have been added and captioned by the webmaster.
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As chaplains of different denominations we are a kind of United Nations on Rikers Island. Each one of us as a representative of a different religion has a potential for division or unity. We cross one another's path in the hallways, we share offices, we sometimes meet the same people, who want to talk to each of us, we have meetings together. We all claim to be men or women of God. If we end up men or women of the system, focusing only on rights, rules, regulations, ID cards and numbers, something important is lost, and this is very sad. Our words and our deeds can bury our message.
Sometimes this happens and everything peters out in platitudes. The religious people involved go astray and transform themselves into a secular administration, an organization devoid of passion and of vision. This is a judgment on our false peace and our drawing back from conflict. Ecumenism has been forgotten. It is true that the title of chaplain does not automatically guarantee deep faith. I say this all the more freely since I am a member of the tribe and cannot exempt myself from the collective contributions and deficiencies of all of us.
Sometimes, on the other hand, there are moments of real grace -- encounters and the providence of brothers and sisters coming from other religious traditions. We take time to acknowledge one another and how we relate to God. The terse American way of saying things doesn't prevent genuine friendship, brotherhood and love. I recall a commemoration of Martin Luther King, Jr., and a week of prayer for Christian unity, celebrated each year, in which each denomination's door was open to all. I recall memorial services for CO's or inmates who had passed away. In these, a divided group became, at least for a moment, one spirit, one mind. Beautiful people can be found in all traditions. . . .
The crying evidence of the prison, in the midst of so many frustrations, is that people who are dispossessed, in exile, thirsting for forgiveness, find themselves in the optimum place for
embracing Life, for encountering others." I don't want prison to be the end of the world for me," says Tony. "I want to be able to start over."
"On Ash Wednesday I went to court and pleaded guilty. I thought that was a very good day to do it," says John.
To know how to lose everything is to know how to gain everything. . . .