Into The Jail

They come from many different backgrounds but they’re alike in certain ways. At least three out of four are addicted to drugs or alcohol. Many are “co-occurring” as well, meaning they also have a diagnosed mental illness of one kind or another. I never ask them what they did to get in there, but it often comes out in conversation. Every Thursday afternoon for the past eighteen months, I’ve been going into the Cumberland County Jail in Portland, Maine to lead a one-hour bible study.

The jail is divided into pods with about eighty-five inmates in each. Security cameras cover everything. After passing through a metal detector in the lobby and signing in, someone is always watching me walk through the corridors, each separated from the next by a heavy steel door which unlocks with a loud metallic click that echoes down the hallway as I approach. The fourth accesses my assigned pod.

Each oblong, six-sided pod is identical with twenty double cells below and twenty in the upper tier that are accessed by two staircases, one on each end. In the middle of a large open area below is a station for the Corrections Officer, or CO, on duty. That is surrounded by steel tables bolted to the floor and plastic chairs stacked nearby. When I come through the sally port the CO will press a button to unlock the little classroom I use, then announce the Bible Study to all the inmates. I stand by the classroom door watching dozens of men playing cards, watching television, or doing pull-ups on bare-bones gym equipment. There’s an outside basketball court surrounded by a very high cinderblock wall with coils of razor wire on top, but few go out there in cold weather.

Anywhere from four to sixteen men will saunter into the classroom, two or three carrying Bibles. Some have tattoos going up to their chins and occasionally beyond. They’re dressed in orange or blue — blue if they’re trustees who work in the kitchen, library, or on the grounds. For most, their times in jail are intermittent periods of sobriety in lives dominated by substance abuse. They’re in and out a lot and discuss that freely. I listen. 

Their accents reflect their origins: Sudan, Somalia, Tennessee, New York City, Maine, and so on. With a concrete floor and cinderblock walls, acoustics are terrible. My hearing aides don’t help and I have to struggle to understand them. None claim to be jailed unjustly; they own whatever they did. I tell them I’m a retired history teacher and not a Bible scholar, and I’m learning along with them. Some know scripture better than I do, and most of those are black and raised in the south. 

If they brought a Bible I’ll ask what they’ve been reading lately. Often it’s Proverbs in the Old Testament or the Book of James in the New. Sometimes it’s the Book of Job or Psalms. Whatever they tell about may morph into the lesson of the day. Others come in with zero knowledge and little conception of what the Bible might contain beyond a vague idea that it would probably be good for them. Occasionally someone will say they came in because there’s not much else to do in jail and I tell them they’re all welcome. I’m never sure who is going to walk through the door. Thats a challenge when preparing a lesson, but I always have something with which to begin. After that it goes wherever it goes.

Frequently one will say he’s going to be released soon and he’s scared. He’s afraid he won’t be able to control himself and he’ll go back to drinking or using drugs. He’ll disappoint his wife, his kids, his parents, or whomever, and he’ll end up back in there again. Others will nod as he talks because they too have done that over and over and a profound sadness permeates the room. As such times I search for something that will offer hope. Usually it’s Paul’s 2nd letter to the Corinthians in which he says: “…[God] said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

Reverend Jeff McIlwain, Chaplain CCJ

Never sure what’s going to help and what isn’t, I go back in each week to see where it will go, remembering Matthew 18:20: “Wherever two or more of you are gathered in my name, I am there with them.” After the hour is up we re-stack the chairs. They thank me and we shake hands. I assure them that I get more by being there than I give.

And I do.