Oh my God, when?

July 10, 2010 by Pastor Dan.

Blythe, California

“I was in prison, and you visited me.” – Matthew 25:36

I used to think that we could paraphrase Jesus from this parable, “I was gay/lesbian, and you did not reject me.” Wouldn’t that suffice for my social conscience purposes? To identify with the oppressed because I too was one of the oppressed.

And after all, the “I was hungry/thirsty” thing we have covered okay with church pot-lucks—nobody goes hungry or thirsty. (Well, I personally never did really do much of the cooking, but, … you know what I mean.)

And then there is “I was naked…” But, c’mon, Jesus, when did we see you or anybody else really naked because they didn’t have any clothes? . . .   I remember one mentally ill man with incredibly thick and dirty blond hair, who used to wander the streets of Silverlake barefoot, winter and summer.  I actually saw him, repeatedly (”When did we see you?”) so I am guilty of not having done a damn thing abut it.  I wonder what ever became of him.

But, Lord, he was mentally ill, after all. What do I know about any of that?

Last winter, the conservative folks over at Silverlake Presbyterian found the frozen body of a homeless man on their front lawn one extremely cold January Sunday morning. He was naked. They guess that he gave up, and took his clothes off to make an unmistakable statement.  And it did.

Oh my God, where was I? We’ve tried to take care of homeless people for years–living in our church parking lot, under the front porch, even in the Narthex, the Tower landing, the Library and an unused choir room. But Silverlake Presbyterian Church is within sight of my own home. I mighty have seen him. “Lord, when did we see you?” I didn’t see him, and knew nothing about this until I read it in the newspaper.  Was it the man with the bare feet?

Of course, we visit the sick. We bring flowers and communion, and get well cards. We try to do all the right things, well—some of the right things— as often as we can, with our consciences reminding us how important these merciful acts are to a Christian. But there is one thing that almost all of us overlook—the part that says “I was in prison, and you visited me.” No, I can’t say I ever pictured Jesus or anybody else in prison. Prison just wasn’t on my radar. I didn’t know any prisoners.

Jeffrey’s court date was February 12 several years ago.  I sat with his parents and the public defender attorney when, because of a parole violation, he was sent up for another 3½ years in state prison. This was a man who was homeless when I met him at the gay A.A. meeting in our church basement. We tried to help him and his partner over the course of many months. So I was there when the bailiff took him away in handcuffs.

“I saw you, Lord.” I saw him. I saw the injustice. I prayed and counseled with his family outside the courthouse that day. But what else could I do? I am just one person, and one without a lot of “street smarts” at that.

Last night, four of us from the church came to Blythe, on the edge of the state line with Arizona. After weeks of paperwork, letters and delays to get our security clearances, and then a 240-mile drive into this God-forsaken piece of arid real estate, we waited in three different lines for nearly two hours just to get into the Visiting Room. It was 115 degrees under a relentless July sun.

You can see the guard tower and 16′ foot high razor-wire encrusted fences more clearly here.

I started to get weepy when I saw him coming in.  Thank God Jeffrey was in a good mood or I would have been a basket case. “Only 267 days left,” he said, “but who’s counting?”

The food is terrible, he admitted. Medical care is poor, and delayed as long as they can do it.  He has to defend himself from slurs and innuendos for being gay in an overwhelmingly heterosexual cell block. It’s a pressure cooker environment (he’s lucky to be over 6′–1″) with 360 men stacked in triple-high bunks in a “cube.” The whole prison has 3,600 men – it was designed for a capacity about half that number — and the courts and the Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation are still arguing about the overcrowding. Chuckawalla Valley State Prison is only one of 33 prisons up and down this great Golden State that are nowhere near anybody’s “back yard.” Remember NIMBY? It’s another way of saying “Lord, when did we see you? We sent you as far away as we possibly could!”

What little money we’ve sent to him in prison Jeffrey uses for cosmetics from the prison store.  The state doesn’t provide deodorant.

It also doesn’t provide any hope for a better life. The rehabilitation part is extremely limited. California spends an average $42,000 per inmate per year and over 95% of it is used just to lock them up and guard them.  The California prison guards union is a potent political force.

Jeffrey said he hadn’t had a visitor since January when his grandmother came to visit. I don’t even remember January anymore. It flew by like every other month when you’re busy. I felt shame that it had taken me over two years to get over my fears or blindness and come out here to see him. “Lord, when did we see you?”

And did I mention it was 115 outside? Doesn’t that constitute “cruel and unusual punishment? Lord, when did we notice how hard NIMBY makes it for families to see their loved ones? When did we see the inhumanity in our justice system? When did we see the real people? When did we go blind?

—Pastor Dan Hooper

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