My jail experience
02.06.2010
I left my home city of Sydney in 1964 as an ordained Columban missionary enthusiastically setting out for my first missionary challenge to Korea. After some years there
I returned to Australia for a period, during which I had a special interest in the L’Arche communities who work with disabled people but I found my niche working as a chaplain to prisoners in Western Australia.
Being Good News
The heart of my job is to be the Good News of God’s love to people who, in general, are used to anything but good news. So many prisoners have a poor self image; they seem to have simply missed out, one way or another, on a start in life. But they are often keen to class themselves as victims and don’t even attempt to take hold of the reins of their own lives.
We have to have jails but they are far from an ideal place for healing and rehabilitation. The jail I visit is like a military camp where people are mustered and organised; they feel written off by society. I think that in some ways society creates prisoners; they are usually uneducated, don’t have work and often take drugs.
I have to be real
It is not helpful to feel sorry for prisoners, nor does it make sense to deny that some have committed horrific crimes, but I don’t think they ought to be defined by their crimes. Even in cases of proven evil I believe that my job is to help the prisoner discover and own their essential goodness.
I am not a counsellor, nor an advocate for prisoners. I am an envoy of God in a place where most are quite wary of association with formal religion. However, I have found that medals, crosses and prayer cards are eagerly sought after by more than a few professed atheists.
I have no illusions about prisoners changing their ways. Most return to prison. Most are quite adept at serving up a cock and bull story to get something they may want. However, some grow into maturity with age and experience. They learn to see beyond the tattoos, body building, drugs and being big time toughs. Having the responsibility of family may bring a man to his senses. Much in the prison environment pressures the prisoner to continue down a negative path, so I do what I can to counter that, insisting on the value and dignity of each person.
I am a sign of hope
As prison chaplain, I conduct liturgies and offer men and women the space to share their story. They are honoured by the community listening and accepting them as they are. They have the chance to recognise love in their frequently chaotic lives. I realise that definitive reconciliation must happen in the community where the crime was committed, but we can help prepare for that moment.
I do not see many verifiable outcomes but I do know that I am a sign of hope for many. They tell me their stories and expect me to remember them and at times they catch me out for failing to do so, but there are 800 prisoners in the jail. Their faces light up when they see me. Whatever appreciative or cynical attitude they may have towards me they certainly know that I am on their side.
Much of what I discovered with the L’Arche communities shapes my approach to the prison chaplaincy.
I feel drawn to the mentally ill, the intellectually handicapped and prisoners who are in some way vulnerable - all people who feel rank outsiders.
Is it worthwhile?
I wonder at times what makes this ministry worthwhile. I know that at the end of my service as prison chaplain no one will be able to point to what I have achieved.
It is a matter of discovering the goodness that is at work in each person’s life, getting to know the God who has always been there. I never feel any need to put a religious spin on things; it is enough that the person feels loved at that moment, loved by me, and that brings out the goodness in each person.
Fr Peter Toohey has been a prison chaplain in Western Australia for the past 16 years.
