I’ve had a good run with this blog. I launched it in December 2008, choosing the domain name on Blogger of Righteous Harvest. The name was meant to signify biblical roots and restorative justice aspirations.
I later inserted the title Piercing the Panopticon. This was intended to take on the issue of America’s excessive reliance on prison as a means of resolving social conflict.
Over the last 3-plus years, I’ve tried to tackle topics of large import. In several posts, I took up California’s prison overcrowding crisis. In others, I delved into Michel Foucault’s analysis of the power dynamics underlying the ascendancy of the modern prison.
In 2009, I eagerly followed Sen. Jim Webb’s efforts to create a national criminal justice review commission. In due course, I commented on the failure of his proposal to go anywhere in Congress.
The reasons for this failure became clearer in 2011, when Daedalus and Wilson Quarterly published themed issues on the phenomenon of mass incarceration.
Since joining the board of directors of Prison Congregations of America in 2010, I’ve increasingly attempted to articulate the value of prison ministry — for people on both sides of the walls. Piercing the Panopticon began to take on a new meaning for me: fostering hope in the light of Christ among those in the figurative darkness of prison.
It’s time for me to reboot my blog to focus more clearly on prison ministry. During Lent, I intend to post a few more times here on Righteous Harvest, seeking to sum up the themes of the last three years. I’ll do so, however, with the sense of an ending.
Showing posts with label Prison Congregations of America. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prison Congregations of America. Show all posts
Monday, February 27, 2012
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Prisoner Visitation and Recidivism Reduction
Tonight I participated in the winter conference call of the Prison Congregations of America board of directors. We have financial challenges, as many nonprofit organizations after the Great Recession. But the ministry we support — supporting the creation of worshipping communities of faith within prison walls — is growing.
PCA began in 1984, after a white Lutheran pastor named Ed Nesselhuf was called to serve as chaplain in a women’s prison in Maryland where most of the inmates were black. The Lord, they say, works in mysterious ways.
And so the Lord did. By the work of the Spirit, PCA has grown today to include congregations in 11 states, with a twelfth congregation under development in Montana.
One of my fellow board members is Rich Rienstra, who started a prison congregation in Michigan. He shared with the board news of a new report about the value of visiting prisoners. The report showed showed that visiting people in prison can help reduce reoffense rates after their release.
Rienstra cited Pat Nolan of Prison Fellowship Justice Fellowship as his source for this information. When I googled it, however, I found that the recidivism report was actually done by the Minnesota Department of Corrections. It was released in November 2011.
The title of the study is studiedly objective in tone: “The Effects of Prisoner Visitation on Offender Recidivism.” For Christians, though, the subtext is clearly Matthew 25, where Jesus urges us to visit those imprison and promises to be found there.
PCA began in 1984, after a white Lutheran pastor named Ed Nesselhuf was called to serve as chaplain in a women’s prison in Maryland where most of the inmates were black. The Lord, they say, works in mysterious ways.
And so the Lord did. By the work of the Spirit, PCA has grown today to include congregations in 11 states, with a twelfth congregation under development in Montana.
One of my fellow board members is Rich Rienstra, who started a prison congregation in Michigan. He shared with the board news of a new report about the value of visiting prisoners. The report showed showed that visiting people in prison can help reduce reoffense rates after their release.
Rienstra cited Pat Nolan of Prison Fellowship Justice Fellowship as his source for this information. When I googled it, however, I found that the recidivism report was actually done by the Minnesota Department of Corrections. It was released in November 2011.
The title of the study is studiedly objective in tone: “The Effects of Prisoner Visitation on Offender Recidivism.” For Christians, though, the subtext is clearly Matthew 25, where Jesus urges us to visit those imprison and promises to be found there.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Earth Stood Hard as Iron
Tonight my friend Lynne sang In the Bleak Midwinter at 5 o'clock worship. It was very affecting; a beautiful song, beautifully sung.
In the bleak midwinter,
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone.
Christina Rosetti was not writing about prison on a literal level. She was writing about the moment before the Incarnation, before a people in darkness saw a great light.
Figuratively, however, Rosetti's imagery evokes the winter of the heart that prison must be. The isolation and hopeless desperation experienced by many inmates are hard for those of us on the outside to understand. But we should not doubt the depth of the despair within the walls.
Prison ministry seeks to respond to this terrible void, in a place where all seems hard as iron. That is why I serve as a board member of Prison Congregations of America, which works to organize church communities within prisons.
In such a community, centered on Christ, the spirit flows. Water is no longer like a stone, but rather a cup of kindness to each storm-tossed soul.
In the bleak midwinter,
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone.
Christina Rosetti was not writing about prison on a literal level. She was writing about the moment before the Incarnation, before a people in darkness saw a great light.
Figuratively, however, Rosetti's imagery evokes the winter of the heart that prison must be. The isolation and hopeless desperation experienced by many inmates are hard for those of us on the outside to understand. But we should not doubt the depth of the despair within the walls.
Prison ministry seeks to respond to this terrible void, in a place where all seems hard as iron. That is why I serve as a board member of Prison Congregations of America, which works to organize church communities within prisons.
In such a community, centered on Christ, the spirit flows. Water is no longer like a stone, but rather a cup of kindness to each storm-tossed soul.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Word of God Speak - Even in Prison
Two weeks ago, I worshipped with New Beginnings Church at the Colorado Women's Correctional Facility. I was there in Denver with other members of the board of Prison Congregations of America, which helps facilitate the founding of congregations like New Beginnings.
One of the centerpieces of the two-hour within-the-walls church experience was the song Word of God Speak. It was familiar to me from contemporary worship services I've attended in recent years.
It's a wonderful song inside the walls or out. Some of the words, however, carried extra depth when sung from the depths of prison.
"To be still and know
That You're in this place
Please let me stay and rest
In Your holiness
Word of God speak"
The simple words and gentle music indeed helped us all know that God was. is, and will be in that place - and in all places where people are sent as punishment.
One of the centerpieces of the two-hour within-the-walls church experience was the song Word of God Speak. It was familiar to me from contemporary worship services I've attended in recent years.
It's a wonderful song inside the walls or out. Some of the words, however, carried extra depth when sung from the depths of prison.
"To be still and know
That You're in this place
Please let me stay and rest
In Your holiness
Word of God speak"
The simple words and gentle music indeed helped us all know that God was. is, and will be in that place - and in all places where people are sent as punishment.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Trust Within the Walls
“Trust, but verify,” was President Reagan’s shorthand phrase for his stance in nuclear arms control talks with Mikhail Gorbachev.
A generation later, as applied to American airport security, the phrase is need of amendment. Verify, yes — but there’s no trust.
A week ago, I experienced this trying to get through security at the Denver airport. I was pulled out of line, an officer opened my carry-on bag, and my shampoo was confiscated. Because I don’t fly all that often, I had inadvertently violated the “3-1-1” rule put in place at some point after the 9-11 terrorist attacks.
3-1-1 stands for 3 ounces of liquid, packed in 1 clear plastic, with no more than one bag per person.
The officer who opened my carry on and took my shampoo was respectful. But it was weird to be in a position where the entire relationship was premised on the absence of trust. That is the very opposite of relational dynamics under which most of us try to live our lives.
The experience did, however, help me understand better what it must be like to be in prison. Being an inmate must be somewhat like going through airport security 24/7, every day for months and years on end.
In this sense, my encounter with Denver’s strict airport security was a fitting conclusion to my trip to attend the spring board meeting of Prison Congregations of America. For PCA seeks to break down the walls of mistrust within the walls of correctional institutions by creating Christian congregations among inmates.
A generation later, as applied to American airport security, the phrase is need of amendment. Verify, yes — but there’s no trust.
A week ago, I experienced this trying to get through security at the Denver airport. I was pulled out of line, an officer opened my carry-on bag, and my shampoo was confiscated. Because I don’t fly all that often, I had inadvertently violated the “3-1-1” rule put in place at some point after the 9-11 terrorist attacks.
3-1-1 stands for 3 ounces of liquid, packed in 1 clear plastic, with no more than one bag per person.
The officer who opened my carry on and took my shampoo was respectful. But it was weird to be in a position where the entire relationship was premised on the absence of trust. That is the very opposite of relational dynamics under which most of us try to live our lives.
The experience did, however, help me understand better what it must be like to be in prison. Being an inmate must be somewhat like going through airport security 24/7, every day for months and years on end.
In this sense, my encounter with Denver’s strict airport security was a fitting conclusion to my trip to attend the spring board meeting of Prison Congregations of America. For PCA seeks to break down the walls of mistrust within the walls of correctional institutions by creating Christian congregations among inmates.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
The Limits of Self-Expression
Paging though an old notebook tonight, from reading that I did in 1998, I came upon a quotation from Abraham Joshua Heschel that made me realize the limitations of this blog.
In Idols in the Temple (1962), Heschel wrote: "If self-expression is the only goal, it can never be achieved. The self gains when losing itself in the not-self, in the contemplation of the world, for example. Self-expression depends upon self-attachment to what is greater than the self."
When I read these words, I felt an implicit critique of my creative stance toward this blog in the 2 1/2 years I've been writing it. It's been primarily about my own self-expression, and only secondarily about seeking a viable forum for dialog about criminal justice reform.
Having felt the weight of the great rabbi's words, I shall endeavor to position my blog as a more useful vehicle for engagement with the world. This will include enewed emphasis on sentencing reform, as well as on the work of Prison Congregations of America, on whose board I serve.
In Idols in the Temple (1962), Heschel wrote: "If self-expression is the only goal, it can never be achieved. The self gains when losing itself in the not-self, in the contemplation of the world, for example. Self-expression depends upon self-attachment to what is greater than the self."
When I read these words, I felt an implicit critique of my creative stance toward this blog in the 2 1/2 years I've been writing it. It's been primarily about my own self-expression, and only secondarily about seeking a viable forum for dialog about criminal justice reform.
Having felt the weight of the great rabbi's words, I shall endeavor to position my blog as a more useful vehicle for engagement with the world. This will include enewed emphasis on sentencing reform, as well as on the work of Prison Congregations of America, on whose board I serve.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
What's in a Name?
Using preposterously high quantity to express the unquantifiable, the singer Bruce Cockburn once wrote a song referring to "the nine billion names of God."
Even when taking poetic license similar to Cockburn's, there are not nearly that many names for "correctional facility." But there are still quite a few, and the nuances are important.
Jail and prison, of course, are still standard terms. They are often wrongly used interchangably, when in fact the terms refer to qualitatively different types of facilities.
Jails are usually operated at the local (county) level and confine people who come from a number of different statuses. One type is convicted offenders whose sentences are for less than one year. But jail populations also often include many other people. Some are waiting for trial, while others are being confined for civil contempt or even non-payment of debts. Still others have been arrested but not yet charged.
Prison, in America, has historically been a place where convicted offenders serving sentences of a year or more are sent. Each state has at least one, and the federal government operates it own system in addition to the state systems.
Traditionally, there was more programming (substance abuse treatment, sex offender treatment, and so on) in prison than in jail. This was because the shorter length of stay in jail did not lend itself as well to successful programming. Today, however, with budgets cuts eroding prison programming, the difference that formerly existed between jail and prison regarding the extent of programming is eroding as well.
In an earlier era of corrections, the operative words were not jail or prison, but penitentiary or reformatory. These names, with their religious origins, pointed to the rehabilitative goal that once animated American corrections. Each person, the thought was, should use the incarceration time to reflect on his or her errors and work to expiate and reform them, in order to become a socially responsible self once again.
In the last few decades, the rehabilitative idea has been in decline and punishment as the primary purpose of incarceration has been ascendant. The term "correctional facility" is therefore the signature one of our time, expressing a sort of bureaucratic indifference to the outcome of what occurs within the walls.
One example of this was related to me by my colleague Gloria, with whom I serve on the board of Prison Congregations of America. Gloria tells the story of how, while serving a sentence at the South Dakota State Penitentiary, she and the other inmates woke up one morning to find that the new governor had changed the name. It was no longer a penitentiary; it was a "correctional facility."
But the generic term "correctional facility," and the commonly used "jail" and "prison," cannot completely displace the many other terms that are in use, either historically or in specific communities.
In the nineteenth century, Oscar Wilde wrote a poem about being confined to "gaol" - an old word that is etymologically related to jail.
The word "prison" has a host of synonyms, such as "the big house."
The children's novelist Lemony Snicket used the word "brig" in one of his novels and defined it as "an official nautical term for jail."
Star Trek fans know that even in the 23rd century, the Starship Enterprise had a brig for detention purposes. Give Trek creator Gene Rodenberry credit there for a realistic appraisal of the human condition. As much as I have decried excessive incarceration in this blog, I do not suggest that human society can or should try to go without it.
Even when taking poetic license similar to Cockburn's, there are not nearly that many names for "correctional facility." But there are still quite a few, and the nuances are important.
Jail and prison, of course, are still standard terms. They are often wrongly used interchangably, when in fact the terms refer to qualitatively different types of facilities.
Jails are usually operated at the local (county) level and confine people who come from a number of different statuses. One type is convicted offenders whose sentences are for less than one year. But jail populations also often include many other people. Some are waiting for trial, while others are being confined for civil contempt or even non-payment of debts. Still others have been arrested but not yet charged.
Prison, in America, has historically been a place where convicted offenders serving sentences of a year or more are sent. Each state has at least one, and the federal government operates it own system in addition to the state systems.
Traditionally, there was more programming (substance abuse treatment, sex offender treatment, and so on) in prison than in jail. This was because the shorter length of stay in jail did not lend itself as well to successful programming. Today, however, with budgets cuts eroding prison programming, the difference that formerly existed between jail and prison regarding the extent of programming is eroding as well.
In an earlier era of corrections, the operative words were not jail or prison, but penitentiary or reformatory. These names, with their religious origins, pointed to the rehabilitative goal that once animated American corrections. Each person, the thought was, should use the incarceration time to reflect on his or her errors and work to expiate and reform them, in order to become a socially responsible self once again.
In the last few decades, the rehabilitative idea has been in decline and punishment as the primary purpose of incarceration has been ascendant. The term "correctional facility" is therefore the signature one of our time, expressing a sort of bureaucratic indifference to the outcome of what occurs within the walls.
One example of this was related to me by my colleague Gloria, with whom I serve on the board of Prison Congregations of America. Gloria tells the story of how, while serving a sentence at the South Dakota State Penitentiary, she and the other inmates woke up one morning to find that the new governor had changed the name. It was no longer a penitentiary; it was a "correctional facility."
But the generic term "correctional facility," and the commonly used "jail" and "prison," cannot completely displace the many other terms that are in use, either historically or in specific communities.
In the nineteenth century, Oscar Wilde wrote a poem about being confined to "gaol" - an old word that is etymologically related to jail.
The word "prison" has a host of synonyms, such as "the big house."
The children's novelist Lemony Snicket used the word "brig" in one of his novels and defined it as "an official nautical term for jail."
Star Trek fans know that even in the 23rd century, the Starship Enterprise had a brig for detention purposes. Give Trek creator Gene Rodenberry credit there for a realistic appraisal of the human condition. As much as I have decried excessive incarceration in this blog, I do not suggest that human society can or should try to go without it.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Fly a Kite
When Julie Andrews sang “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” in Mary Poppins, she wasn’t referring to communication within prison.
Ms. Poppins may have been an unconventional nanny. But her usage of the word “”kite” was firmly within the dictionary definition: “a lightweight framework of wood and paper designed to fly in a steady breeze.”
In prison, the meaning is rather different. In prison, a kite is a formal means of communicating with the institutional authorities. How the word came to be used for this, I do not yet know.
Prison Congregation of America, on whose board I serve, has adopted the kite as one of the key symbols of the organization. When I wear a kite pin, it is to remember those in prison (Hebrews 13:3).
Ms. Poppins may have been an unconventional nanny. But her usage of the word “”kite” was firmly within the dictionary definition: “a lightweight framework of wood and paper designed to fly in a steady breeze.”
In prison, the meaning is rather different. In prison, a kite is a formal means of communicating with the institutional authorities. How the word came to be used for this, I do not yet know.
Prison Congregation of America, on whose board I serve, has adopted the kite as one of the key symbols of the organization. When I wear a kite pin, it is to remember those in prison (Hebrews 13:3).
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Searched Out and Known by God - Even in Prison
Last night I took part in my second board meeting of Prison Congregations of America. PCA is a nonprofit group working with inmates, corrections officials, local church communities, and mainline denominations to create congregations within prison walls. These are congregations where inmates gather to worship the Lord and support each other with prayer and - just as on the outside - the mutual consolaton of the saints.
The partnership model employed by PCA, involving close collaboration between a prison congregation and a church in the larger community, has already achieved notable success. There are currently 14 prison congregation in 10 states, with plans, God willing, for many more.
Rich Rienstra, pastor/developer of the inmate congregation at Ionia Bellamy Creek Correctional Facility in western Michigan, gave the devotions at the start of last night's PCA board meeting. He read from Psalm 146, which praises the God of Jacob, the creator of all things, who keeps faith forever and executes justice for the oppressed.
The Lord sets the prisoners free;
the Lord opens the eyes of the blind,
The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down . . .
Rich also read from Psalm 139, addressed by the Psalmist to the God who has searched him and known him and is prepared to follow him all the way to the depths of Sheol. Both of these passages, Rich said, resonate very deeply with members of the prison congregation.
As the board moved on to discuss the exciting opportunities and significant challenges PCA faces in this still-so-tough economy, these readings from the Psalms were the perfect place to start.
The partnership model employed by PCA, involving close collaboration between a prison congregation and a church in the larger community, has already achieved notable success. There are currently 14 prison congregation in 10 states, with plans, God willing, for many more.
Rich Rienstra, pastor/developer of the inmate congregation at Ionia Bellamy Creek Correctional Facility in western Michigan, gave the devotions at the start of last night's PCA board meeting. He read from Psalm 146, which praises the God of Jacob, the creator of all things, who keeps faith forever and executes justice for the oppressed.
The Lord sets the prisoners free;
the Lord opens the eyes of the blind,
The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down . . .
Rich also read from Psalm 139, addressed by the Psalmist to the God who has searched him and known him and is prepared to follow him all the way to the depths of Sheol. Both of these passages, Rich said, resonate very deeply with members of the prison congregation.
As the board moved on to discuss the exciting opportunities and significant challenges PCA faces in this still-so-tough economy, these readings from the Psalms were the perfect place to start.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Through the Gate(s)
When the author Ted Conover worked as correctional officer at New York’s notorious Sing Sing prison in the 1990s, he sometimes had to pass through ten different locked gates to reach his assigned post.
My visit with other board members of Prison Congregations of America to inmates at the Bellamy Creek Correctional Facility in western Michigan on April 10 did not involve nearly as many doors. But it was far from simple.
The process unfolded like this:
Several weeks before our board meeting, Mary Mortenson, the director of Prison Congregation, collected the names and Social Security numbers of those intending to visit the prison. She passed those along to Rich Rienstra, pastor of Celebration Fellowship, as the congregation at Bellamy Creek is called. Rich in turn provided them to the official prison chaplain, who notified the appropriate security authorities in the prison.
When we arrived at Bellamy Creek, we left our billfolds, belts, cell phones, and virtually all other personal objects in our vehicles. There were lockers just inside the entrance for other miscellaneous items. I tossed my comb in one of those, keeping only my driver’s license.
After a bit of milling around, we passed − in groups of six or seven − through the first gate, into an area that Rich called “the bubble.” There, we had to leave our licenses, remove our shoes as in airport screening, and have our hands dabbed with a substance that was then scanned.
Finally, after more milling around, we were in. Only two gates, not Conover’s ten, but “the bubble” packed numerous security features into an enclosed space.
We were lead down a corridor to the room where Celebration Fellowship meets, to spend a remarkable two hours with the brothers there. The Spirit was moving, animated by a mutual recognition that ultimately there is only one gate that matters: the one Jesus offers in John 14:6, “the way, the truth, and the life.”
My visit with other board members of Prison Congregations of America to inmates at the Bellamy Creek Correctional Facility in western Michigan on April 10 did not involve nearly as many doors. But it was far from simple.
The process unfolded like this:
Several weeks before our board meeting, Mary Mortenson, the director of Prison Congregation, collected the names and Social Security numbers of those intending to visit the prison. She passed those along to Rich Rienstra, pastor of Celebration Fellowship, as the congregation at Bellamy Creek is called. Rich in turn provided them to the official prison chaplain, who notified the appropriate security authorities in the prison.
When we arrived at Bellamy Creek, we left our billfolds, belts, cell phones, and virtually all other personal objects in our vehicles. There were lockers just inside the entrance for other miscellaneous items. I tossed my comb in one of those, keeping only my driver’s license.
After a bit of milling around, we passed − in groups of six or seven − through the first gate, into an area that Rich called “the bubble.” There, we had to leave our licenses, remove our shoes as in airport screening, and have our hands dabbed with a substance that was then scanned.
Finally, after more milling around, we were in. Only two gates, not Conover’s ten, but “the bubble” packed numerous security features into an enclosed space.
We were lead down a corridor to the room where Celebration Fellowship meets, to spend a remarkable two hours with the brothers there. The Spirit was moving, animated by a mutual recognition that ultimately there is only one gate that matters: the one Jesus offers in John 14:6, “the way, the truth, and the life.”
Monday, September 21, 2009
The Forgotten Fifth
In the Gospel accounts of the crucifixion, Jesus is put to death with a criminal hanging on either side of him.
The two criminals’ responses were very different, according to Luke (23:39-43). One of them derided Jesus, taunting him and mocking his unwillingness to come down from the cross if he were truly the Messiah. The other criminal − called Dismas (or Dysmas) in Christian tradition − answered the first, pointing out Jesus’s innocence.
After this exchange, Jesus turned to Dismas and said "today, you will be with me in Paradise."
Fittingly, ministry to and among prisoners has embraced the Dismas name. One group engaging in this important work is Prison Congregations of America, which helps to develop congregations within prison walls. Several of them have taken the St. Dismas name, including congregations in Maryland, South Dakota, and Pennsylvania.
In July, I had the chance to spend a few days at Outlaw Ranch in the Black Hills with Ed Nesselhuf, a Lutheran pastor who was instrumental in founding Prison Congregations. He spoke movingly of how prisoners are so often “the forgotten fifth” among the injunctions given by Jesus to his followers in Matthew 25:
Feed the hungry
Welcome the stranger
Clothe the naked
Care for the sick
Visit the prisoner
Inmates, in other words, are an integral a part of Jesus’ ministry. They have been right from the start, when Jesus read from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah in his hometown of Nazareth and chose a passage proclaiming release to the captives.
Last year, my friend Mary Mortenson took over as director of Prison Congregations after Ed Nesselhuf retired. The challenge is not only to create congregations inside the walls, but also to link them to those outside the walls to renew and make strong the body of Christ.
Dear reader, do you feel called to get involved in this profoundly Christian mission? Contact Mary at Prison Congregations to ask how you can get involved.
The two criminals’ responses were very different, according to Luke (23:39-43). One of them derided Jesus, taunting him and mocking his unwillingness to come down from the cross if he were truly the Messiah. The other criminal − called Dismas (or Dysmas) in Christian tradition − answered the first, pointing out Jesus’s innocence.
After this exchange, Jesus turned to Dismas and said "today, you will be with me in Paradise."
Fittingly, ministry to and among prisoners has embraced the Dismas name. One group engaging in this important work is Prison Congregations of America, which helps to develop congregations within prison walls. Several of them have taken the St. Dismas name, including congregations in Maryland, South Dakota, and Pennsylvania.
In July, I had the chance to spend a few days at Outlaw Ranch in the Black Hills with Ed Nesselhuf, a Lutheran pastor who was instrumental in founding Prison Congregations. He spoke movingly of how prisoners are so often “the forgotten fifth” among the injunctions given by Jesus to his followers in Matthew 25:
Feed the hungry
Welcome the stranger
Clothe the naked
Care for the sick
Visit the prisoner
Inmates, in other words, are an integral a part of Jesus’ ministry. They have been right from the start, when Jesus read from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah in his hometown of Nazareth and chose a passage proclaiming release to the captives.
Last year, my friend Mary Mortenson took over as director of Prison Congregations after Ed Nesselhuf retired. The challenge is not only to create congregations inside the walls, but also to link them to those outside the walls to renew and make strong the body of Christ.
Dear reader, do you feel called to get involved in this profoundly Christian mission? Contact Mary at Prison Congregations to ask how you can get involved.
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