I’ll Fly Away

FROM THE RECTOR

Almost every week at the Sunday-evening Eucharist in the women’s correctional facility across the street from St. Paul’s, we finish the service with a boisterous rendition of “I’ll Fly Away.” I have never much cared for that song—the theology of escaping this world by flying away into the next misidentifies the Christian hope for the restoration of all things—but I cannot help but love it when it is sung by women who yearn for the day when the line “no more iron shackles on my feet” will be as true in this life as it will be in the next.

A few months ago, toward the end of the Easter season, we heard a reading from the Acts of the Apostles (16:16-34), in which Paul and Silas stayed awake in prison, singing hymns to God while the other prisoners listened to them. As they praised God, suddenly a violent earthquake shook the prison to its foundations, springing open all the doors and chains that held them captive.

I did not take part in our own prison Eucharist that night, but I remember wondering in church that morning how the story of God’s deliverance of the two evangelists would take on new meaning if I had ever spent time in chains. Given that Jesus urged his followers to visit those in prison and how central the image of the prisoner being set free is to the proclamation of the good news of salvation, I wonder what work I need to do to immerse myself in the perspective of those who have experienced incarceration in order to understand more fully God’s freeing love.

This week, as we began our baptismal preparation classes for some of the women at the NWACCC, I had the chance to sit down with them and begin to hear their stories. Usually, on a Sunday night, when the volunteers and I arrive at the prison, we set up for Eucharist, welcome the women who attend, worship together, say farewell, clean up, and depart with remarkable efficiency. Because I only attend the service occasionally, I do not get a chance to know well any of the women as many of the regular volunteers do, but, during baptismal preparation, our time together stretches out a little bit.

Although we study such topics as scripture, church history, doctrine, and sacraments, we also get to share stories about the churches where we grew up, challenges from the families we left behind, and hopes for what God has in store for us. I get to know not only their names but also their circumstances—what brought them to prison and what needs to change before they can get out. Those kind of exchanges feel a lot closer to what Jesus meant when he told us that those who visit the incarcerated are actually visiting him.

At St. Paul’s, we have several ministries that put us in closer relationships with those who are incarcerated, who have been incarcerated, or who face incarceration. Our weekly Sunday-evening Eucharist needs more volunteers, and I encourage you to call the church and sign up. We also visit the prison to offer the Enneagram Essentials program and the Prison Stories Project, both of which could use your support. Kathy McGregor leads several ministries that keep us in contact with inmates, including an effort to write birthday cards and other supportive notes to individuals on death row.

Our Justice for All ministry is working hard with outside organizations to advocate for judicial reform so that people who are not a threat to anyone can stay out and care for themselves and their families. Our warrant clinics, which have been co-sponsored by the county prosecutor’s office, are designed to give people a chance to address their outstanding warrants without unnecessarily going to jail, which would cost them and the taxpayers money. Our recent car clinic helped repair broken taillights and replace brakes for people who could not afford repairs on their own and who risked being arrested for operating an unsafe vehicle.

We continue to support Magdalene Serenity House, which has recently expanded its work to break the cycle of sexual exploitation, poverty, addiction, and incarceration that has brought many women to the NWACCC. Magdalene would not be able to help those vulnerable women find restoration and healing if no one took time to hear their stories, learn to value their perspectives and experiences, and recognize that they are not defined by their arrest record or inmate number but by their humanity as children of God.

At 3:00 p.m. on September 11, we will host a baptismal service for several of the women at the NWACCC, and you are invited. For the past two years, because of Covid, we have not been able to hold that service, and I am thankful that the warden, chaplain, and staff are willing to let us host it again. I cannot think of an occasion when I have experienced more fully the promise of liberation given to us in Jesus Christ than at that service. I get a glimpse of it every time I take part in the prison Eucharist, but sharing the sacrament of Baptism with women who seek freedom both in this life and in the next fills me with the hope of the gospel in an overwhelming way. It is as good as church gets, and I hope you will join us.

More than that, though, I hope you will find a way to connect with those children of God who are usually hidden from our sight—the individuals who live in jail or prison or who live in fear of being incarcerated because they cannot afford to pay a fine or leave work for a mandatory judicial appointment. Jesus told us to visit them not only because they need our support but also because we need to encounter their humanity. We cannot know salvation until we know what salvation means to those who live in chains.

Yours Faithfully,

Evan D. Garner