Since 2003 I have been the Senior Jewish Chaplain for the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department in their entire jail system. I am also the Jewish Chaplain at Corcoran State Prison, and serve as the Rabbi, part time, for K'hilat HaAloneem in Ojia, California. While in the jails and institutions I am primarily there for the Jewish inmates, I also have a considerable amount of interaction with non-Jewish inmates, most of whom are addicts. No matter what the crime, I found that the common beginning point was addiction.



I devote a considerable amount of time with my men post-incarceration. Helping them, encouraging them, to try and build a sober and healthy new life. It is gratifying that while there is a 78% recidivism rate for normal inmates. I have been blessed to see a high percentage of men with whom I work most intensively who have changed that statistic. With my men, there is a non scientific rate of 80% who do not return to jail.



Even though the system is troubled. I continue to be amazed at the courage and strength of so many of my men. The majority of who have come to me after being incarcerated numerous times before. These men have given and continue to give my life blessings that I never could have imagined. I hope that their stories can do he same for you.







Friday, August 5, 2011

How an Inmate Changed My Life - Part 2


 It’s a long piece but it’s an important one because of the ways our lives can be changed in profound but unusual and unexpected ways.

YIGAL

I had only been working at the jails for a few months when I was awakened at 5 am by a call from the captain. “One of your men is in the suicide ward, rabbi. Could you come down and see him now?” Just so you know, I had hardly gotten to meet the captain yet, let alone get a wake up call from him. I don’t generally wake up quickly but I did that Friday morning.

Twin Towers is two round buildings connected by a mental ward. The top (7th) floor is the suicide ward. I had never been there. Single cells. The men wear thick hospital gowns and paper slippers. No books or phone calls or clothing: precautions to prevent suicides. Two deputies sitting watch. I asked them to bring out Yigal.

A young (early 30s) man came out. He had been ‘in’ for two days and was still coming down from his meth high. He was shaky and it was obviously hard for him to focus but I knew that the mere fact that someone was there to see him was a big incentive for him to try to pay as much attention as was possible given the situation.

All I knew about Yigal at that moment was that he was Jewish , clearly still high and looking very scared. I (to complete the picture) was wearing a colorful kippah, khaki slacks and a shirt, tie and a sweater. The reason I’m sharing that information is that, despite his haze, his face did register some surprise when I introduced myself as Rabbi Carron. It turns out that Yigal comes from an orthodox Sephardic family. I was not the picture of any rabbi he had met before.

We (mostly I) talked for a while. I was doing my best to find a way  ‘in’ to help and find out something about him. I took out a little book of Reb Nachman’s teachings. All of a sudden, his eyes got clearer. He knew the quotes I was sharing with him. I often use Reb Nachman to bring home the sense of loneliness and despair and, then, hope that the men need to even begin to trust me and to give them a sense that this horrible situation is not hopeless. He knew the quotes. He told me he did. He also said “I never learned about them this way. The way you’re telling it,  it’s like he’s talking to me.”

The deputy had never met me before. I knew he was listening to our conversation, although trying not to be obvious about it. I already knew that rabbis were a new experience to some of the younger deputies.  Yigal had not spoken to his family since being arrested. He very much wanted to be allowed to use a phone. He also wanted to take a shower. I was told by the deputy that he couldn’t do any of those things and I couldn’t give him any books until his psych appointment cleared him from the suicide watch list.

When I asked him when his appointment was, he said “Tuesday”. It was Friday morning. Not only was that night Shabbat but it was 5 days until that appointment. I didn’t have much experience with all this but I didn’t want to leave until Yigal had been seen. I’m not a shrink but it seemed clear to me that he was petrified but not suicidal. I, of course, couldn’t make that call. The deputy pointed to a set of stairs leading to the psych offices. But he looked at me as if I weren’t grasping something and said “he won’t come down now. I told you, his appointment is Tuesday.”

I asked him not to put Yigal back in his cell while I went up to try and see the doctor. When I came down a few minutes later, the doctor was with me. I will never forget the look on the deputy’s face. He really was beyond surprised.

The doctor interviewed Yigal and agreed that he was not in danger of suicide (in my silent opinion, I thought that staying on that horrible floor for 5 more days would make anyone suicidal anyway). I asked the doctor to please write the forms AND tell the deputy that I could give him some religious books to read (as much as was able to focus), a kippah and permission to call his parents and take a shower. I then told the deputy that I’d be much more comfortable if I could stay there until I saw Yigal on the phone. And then I left.

I don’t go downtown on Sundays, but that Sunday I did. There something that had touched me during our first meeting. I wanted to make sure he was holding up. He had been moved to another cell block, so I drove down. We spent 45 minutes talking and praying together (although I now had to stand outside his cell to talk with him. There was no place to meet and sit in this new area). For the next few months, whether I was scheduled to work or not, I went downtown five times a week to spend 30-40 minutes with Yigal. Aside from his drug addiction, he had also been arrested for credit card theft and other assorted crimes. (almost all the men I see, no matter the crime, are there as a result of their drug addiction which fueled the crimes).

As the weeks went by, I was privileged to find a caring, very bright and very spiritual man who honored me with his trust and sharing. There is a misconception many of us have that those who commit criminal acts and are addicted to drugs are losers who must come from horrible families. Yigal is a perfect example of an educated man with a very loving and close family whose addictions turned him into someone he couldn’t have fathomed. Recovery is about accepting your addiction but also accepting responsibility for the wrongs you have done.

We spent a good portion of our time on Torah and the teachings of Judaism. He grew up observant. He knew the parshiot and the words of out people. He, however, did not always find the 21st century ‘message’ inside them.  We (he) started to talk about the shame he felt, to his family, God, himself…all around shame.

One of the issues I had to learn to deal with was how much it seemed to annoy the sergeant in charge of that cell block that I came every day and needed him to pull Yigal out of his cell. Most chaplains, in his defense, ‘walk the rows’ to see their inmates. But, they aren’t Jewish. There aren’t many Jewish inmates in that particular part of the jail. I tried to explain that it was very hard to have any personal and possibly emotional conversation standing in a row of cells where everyone can hear what’s going on. I wasn’t going there only to give him a blessing and a hello, I was going there to try and get him on the road to recovery so that he was prepared to go for help when he was released. I said I was doing spiritual recovery work with him. That meant they had to go and escort him out and lock him in a holding cell which was directly across from where all the deputies sat. One day, Yigal touched on something that made him cry. I reached inside the bars to wipe his tears. The sergeant was not happy.  He bellowed, “No physical contact with the inmates!”   I wasn’t  comfortable with the tone of voice and, although it is generally the rule, he was in handcuffs and crying. So, I walked over and asked him not to talk to me that way, since I wouldn’t talk that way to him, especially in front of his deputies and the man I was counseling. 

I said I thought it was not human for me (chaplain or ‘civilian’) not to dry someone’s tears and I believed the captain would agree, so if he wanted to go to the captain’s office with me, I’d be fine with that.

Needless to say, for the remainder of my visits with Yigal, there was not much verbal communication with the officers. They just go him out and that was that. Of course, during any of these 45 minute sessions, there were no chairs I could borrow to sit and talk. Just to give a picture of some of the issues with SOME (definitely not all) of the deputies.

At any rate, I came back from family in Florida right after new years and found a fax (I can’t give my phone number, of course, but his family had a fax number for me) that Yigal was released on bail and would I honor them by coming  to the synagogue and Shabbat dinner at their home.

I had never done that before but at the last minute I decided to go. Yigal also serves as shaliach tzibbur (cantor) at his little shtibl. I walked in as the service was beginning. I walked into an orthodox, mostly Israeli orthodox shul and saw Yigal on the bimah, in a suit and, of course, a tallit. I had never met his family. Yigal looked at the door and our eyes met. I immediately started crying. He did, as well. Then, his family figured out who I was and THEY got emotional. Soon,  I was brought over to sit with his family.

I went to their home for a very delicious dinner. Mostly, however, I remember the kindness and the warmth and the realization that having a reform rabbi there was a pretty unusual experience for them.

I have been both to their shui and to dinners on many shabbatot since then. Yigal is now 7 years out of jail, has made restitution to everyone and is living a ‘real’ life, drug free and healthy.

I bumped into that sergeant awhile back and said “by the way, do you remember the man I came to see every day a few years ago? He is sober, he is off of probation and he got a license to be a surgeon’s assistant. Just so you know.” Definitely surprised,  he said he wished they got more updates like that because they only see men in lockup and it does make it difficult to see what I just described to him.

I am proud of Yigal. But more than that, I am so grateful for him. It was during my time with him and the continued work we did after his release that made me see how much this work was calling to me and how many men were getting lost along the way because they lost hope and couldn’t find a way back.

He continues to be a blessing in my life and continues to infuse my work and my life with hope and commitment.