I went to prison last night...

I went to prison last night for the first time. A young woman named Beth(not her real name) visited us for worship with the prison chaplain a few months ago. She spoke to us, told her life story and asked for our help, telling us of needs we knew not of. Her new copper penny bright soul shone through her face and she won our hearts. One of our church women is on the board that raises funds to support the chaplains and she had arranged this visit. Three of us took our training and are now official blue card carrying certified volunteers at the women’s prison near Asheville in Black Mountain.
Last night we led a worship service as our first offering to this community of women. Our bi-racial congregation is unusual in many ways. We have a woman pastor who has Mother God’s heart for all her children. African American women who are successful in work and at home, welfare mothers who are doing their best, old women who have struggled in their time to rise above the limits imposed on them by a segregated society, young women getting started in their fields of social work and teaching, and white women like me... college students, retired preachers wives, formerly homeless and now at home, a lesbian couple with their baby boy Silas, homemakers and social workers. Our men reflect the same differences and similarities. We are a congregation rich in experience and acceptance, wise to struggle with success and failure, a rock that provides shelter in a weary land for many of us.
Our little church has a heart for the invisible ones in our community. For years they housed the homeless in their basement and after the shelter was closed for renovations to bring it up to code, our congregation had a hole in its heart. We have been searching for new ways to minister. Some of our women have a regular time to visit the shelter for homeless women. Our men serve meals to homeless vets and others at an old motel that has been converted to a long term housing facility.
When we walked into the chapel there were women finishing up their sacred dance group practice. That felt like home to me after spending years as a part of a sacred dance group in church. We asked them to dance for our worship but some of them had to get up at three a.m. for breakfast duty so they just danced one of their pieces for us before worship, a rendition of Amazing Grace. Our next worship will be a dance worship, perhaps, with our dancers and theirs.
Community matters at Calvary Presbyterian so we began by milling around, meeting and greeting, getting to know names and faces. We sang, prayed, heard scripture read, passed the peace Calvary style and gathered in a circle around the table for communion. As Pastor Pat asked for prayers, women began to speak. Many were to be released soon and shared their fears of returning to old ways, those who were being left behind spoke of their yearning to be free and one could feel the loneliness, children and family, illness, Japan and her tragedy... Pat prayed over us all as we held hands and we were bound together in love. We passed the bread and juice, looking in our partner’s eyes while speaking those ancient words... This is the body of Christ broken for you... This is the blood of Christ shed for you.
In that holy moment, Lent began for me. I found myself reflected in the eyes of women with whom I share much in common. My need for mercy in judgement, forgiveness and restoration is the same as theirs. The sins that bring us to our knees may be different but our needs are the same. The chapel was full of love, laughter and Lent and I am grateful for the gifts I was given last night when I went to prison for the first time.
I was in prison and you visited me...