Community (#27)

Community

The author of a book that I read before I entered the prison camp wrote that you can never really have friends in prison. You may have many acquaintances, but not true friends. I believe his reason for making this assertion is that people in prison tend not to open up or be real or vulnerable with other inmates. In fact, I would be surprised if half of the details of the stories I hear are true. If people are not going to share about themselves honestly, then I would agree with that author, an inmate will never develop any true friendships. That, however, is true in prison and outside as well.

I have been asking myself if a person can be in “community” without having friends in that “community”? I suppose that could exist, but would it be a community in which you would want to belong? I think the prison community in which I am incarcerated suffers from this very issue. While I am fortunate to say I do have a couple of people in the church whom I would call friends, I think our community faces difficulty in reaching out to other inmates because we lack close friendships. After all, Jesus wants to be in relationship with people, and my church community here is not able to show what that looks like because we cannot even be in close relationship with each other. Granted, there are men in the church who do have friends, but the church as a whole seems to be bereft of the honest and authentic friendship that is required for spiritual growth.

Before I arrived at Taft, I explained to my wife what my goals would be during my time here (the book I read and other resources emphasized having goals for the time). My wife said that I should spend time with the men, be their friends, and show them the love of Christ. How does one do that in a place where showing hurt or fear is considered weak?

Maybe some of you go to churches and desire real fellowship and friendships, maybe you do not attend church, but want the same thing out of your relationships. I know finding a friend was my primary prayer request when I first arrived. I wanted to have someone to whom I could tell that I was sad, that I missed my family, to cry with about missing out on birthdays, holidays, and the little things that I took for granted. To me, sharing, praying, encouraging, supporting, and keeping me accountable are things that I expect friends to do and I want that. I asked a guy to pray with me every week in search of this. I did this on the outside as well, and it worked. I met with the guy for a couple of months. It did resolve some of my hopes and sharing and accountability, but I don’t think we have developed a friendship. I still pray with the guy and I know God is teaching me through this. But, I still wanted more. I wanted to laugh and talk about things we have in common. This was not working with my prayer partner. Something was missing.

About three or four months ago, a guy from the low level prison moved down to the camp. His name is Lalo. I started talking to him and we would walk around the track and chat. He asked me if I would help him with some classes he was taking. Over the course of a few weeks, we began talking regularly. The breakthrough in our becoming friends occurred when Lalo asked me one day to “be in his car.” This is one of those phrases unique to prison life (and perhaps I have explained this, but I’ll explain it again) that means you want to share a meal with someone. Although, it’s not just sitting and eating in the cafeteria (the give us 15 minutes to eat, so you don’t talk a lot), but being in someone’s car means that you prepare the meal together and eat together, outside of the cafeteria. This particular time, Lalo wanted me to join his “pasta car” and I did. Usually the driver of the car (the guy making the meal) dictates who is in the car, but if you know someone, it is okay to ask to be in the car.

I mention this because preparing and eating a meal with Lalo, and the conversation during this time was the reason we became friends. At that first meal, he showed me pictures of his family and friends. Pictures are about as personal as you get here, other than allowing someone to read your letters. I haven’t seen that happen yet (reading letters that is). I felt honored to be able to share in Lalo’s life like this. I have since shown Lalo pictures of my family as well, in fact, Lalo met my family during a visit once. Lalo works as the camp photographer. He takes pictures of inmates and their families during visits. It was during one of my family’s visits that I introduced my family to Lalo.
Lalo is not involved in our church. Yet Lalo is probably one of the 2 or 3 guys here about whom I could describe as a friend. We have since shared several cars and Lalo is showing me how to cook. Lalo does come to church sometimes with me. I’m hoping that through my friendship, a friendship that started through a meal, he will come to know Jesus as his Lord and Savior.

Jeff