"Work Court": An Alternative To Incarceration

This beautiful motto has been on the wall behind the Judge's bench of the Rockingham Circuit Court for over 100 years. (Photo provided by Chaz Haywood)

One of the more obvious signs of good citizenship is individuals holding down good jobs, showing up regularly for work, providing for their families, keeping up with their bills, paying their taxes, and otherwise helping the economy and avoiding being a burden to society. The current unemployment rate in Virginia, at 3%, represents adults of working age who are less likely to be contributing to their communities in these ways.

Sadly, among those in the latter group are the more than 60,000 men and women in the Commonwealth confined in our jails and prisons. So as a concerned tax paying citizen I would offer the following modest proposal:

That anyone charged with an offense who has a steady job, is paying taxes and providing for themselves and for their families will not receive sentences that result in their losing their employment unless they are a clear danger to their community. Alternatives to incarceration could include paying appropriate fines, being under house arrest except for work, having an extended probation period, being on electronic monitoring, and/or serving time at night and on weekends.

I recently became acquainted with a local breadwinner who was within months of completing his probation when he was given an 18 month sentence for a probation violation. During the five years since completing his prison term he had kept a good paying job, paid off all his court fines and fees, gotten married, bought a home, bettered himself financially and remained law-abiding and infraction free. Then he made the bad mistake of violating one of the terms of his probation, which is a "technical violation" but not something that would be considered a crime for anyone not under court supervision.

This individual acknowledges his mistake and was prepared to accept some kind of consequence, but due to what he felt was poor representation by his court appointed attorney, was sentenced to serve another year and a half sentence in prison, losing his job and putting his spouse in financial straits in the process.

One of our community's more creative and effective alternatives to incarceration has been the local Drug Court initiated and championed by Commonwealth's Attorney Marsha Garst. Rather than having those with substance use disorders serving time behind bars at an average annual cost to taxpayers of over $25,000 per inmate, individuals in the Drug Court program are subject to regular drug screens, are enrolled in substance abuse programs, and meet with Judge Bruce Albertson for a check-in every Thursday noon at the Circuit Court. They are closely monitored and are regularly encouraged, promoted to a higher level, reprimanded, demoted, and/or graduated. If they relapse, they must start the program all over again.

So I'm wondering if a similar kind of "Work Court" program (perhaps meeting at night) could be created as an effective and corrective alternative to jail or prison time. In my mind this could be a win/win/win for 1) taxpayers, 2) our overcrowded jails and 3) all of the individuals, families and communities involved.

Needlessly warehousing working people in cages hurts families, adds to human services costs, reduces tax revenues, has a negative effect on our economy, and creates an added strain on local and state budgets.

We can do better than that.

Why Don't We Form Search Committees For Apostles, Prophets And Evangelists?

Should we reconsider how our
congregations are led and nurtured?

"To some are given gifts to be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, to equip God's people for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ..."

- Paul, in a letter to the Ephesian church (Eph. 4:11-12 paraphrased)

Most churches seem to read this text as, "To one is given the gift of being a senior pastor, to another an associate pastor, to yet another, a youth pastor, who are to be the church's apostles, preachers, and evangelists."

I hold pastors in high regard, having been blessed personally being in that role for over 58 years. But I have long wondered why we elevate this particular office above all the other leadership roles mentioned in the New Testament.

Over time, congregations in Mennonite Church USA have largely adopted the same model of a pastor's office and role as that of most of their Protestant counterparts. While in the past our ministers were chosen from within their congregations and were a part of an unsalaried ministerial team led by bishops (who in turn were chosen from among their peers), most Mennonite pastors today are hired from outside the congregation and are seen as the congregation's primary leader and chief spokesperson. This in spite of the word translated pastor consistently being in the plural.

David Sproules of the Palm Beach Lakes Church of God, writes, "The preacher is not by definition, then, a 'pastor.'  He is not 'the leader' 'in charge' of the church.  He is one of the members (sheep) of the congregation and is subject to the eldership (like all members, including the elders).  He is not on a level 'above' anyone else or to be 'revered' as such (cf. Psa. 111:9); thus, there is no special title (ex: Pastor, Reverend, Father) for him to wear or to be called (Matt. 23:5-12)."

He goes on to note references to a plurality of elders, overseers, bishops, pastors and/or shepherds in the church, suggesting a shift from relying primarily on special seminary trained and salaried pastors for the spiritual care of our congregations. 

In the body of Christ, blessed with multiple gifts, we are all a part of the "laity" (from laos, the people), and we are all "called to the ministry" of caring for each other and reaching out in love and care for the world around us.

An Intake At Goochland Women's Correctional Center: "We Were Treated Worse Than Dogs"

The author of this piece is serving a sentence at
Goochland for a probation violation in 2022.

This was written for publication by a local 50-year-old mother of three who is to be released from prison this fall.

I arrived at Virginia Correctional Center for Women (VCCW) on January 18, 2023. I transferred there from Fluvanna Correctional Center for Women, where they hold maximum security inmates as well as do intakes and classify women coming into the Department of Corrections from Virginia jails.

VCCW, aka Goochland, is in Goochland County, an approximately 30-minute drive from Fluvanna. There were around 12 to 15 women transferred that day. We were all shackled with chains between our ankles, so you must take baby steps to keep from falling on your face. There’s a chain wrapped around your waist that is intertwined through a metal box that holds your hands at your waist. The contraption holds your hands so tight that some of the women complained their circulation was cut off and I could see because their hands were turning purple.

The bus that carried us was more like a horse trailer, with little oblong windows that were so high we couldn’t see out of them. The only way to see was if you stood up and stretched because there was a considerable height.

Our only stop was at State Farm. State Farm is a work camp that is on the same property as VCCW but maybe about five miles apart. We stopped to drop off one of the women on the bus who was going to be housed there.

When we stopped the female officer who rode up front with the male bus driver got off the bus and managed to drop some important paperwork that concerned the inmate being left at the State Farm location. We stayed on the bus for several minutes, unsure of what had occurred, while the officer and the bus driver (also an officer) searched for the paperwork.

We were becoming restless and miserable with no air blowing and it was an unseasonable warm day. We could barely move with the tight restraints and shackles on our ankle. 

Finally, a taller girl stood up to one of those small, high windows to see what was taking so long. She then spotted the missing paperwork. When it was dropped it had blown up against a small wooden structure we were parked beside.

After we finally got their attentions, we told them someone had looked out the window and saw the paper had blown to the right of the bus. They acted as if they didn’t believe us, failing to make a move or even acknowledge what we were saying. We became adamant that their paper was over against the building and that clearly irritated them. Finally, one of them did go look and found the paperwork. 

This is an example of the disconnection between inmates and staff. They chose to ignore the information that would get us safely and promptly back on the road toward our destination only because the information came from inmates.

We finally arrived at VCCW and once again we were left sitting on this hot, stuffy bus with no air circulating. We asked the officer and the driver several time to please turn the air conditioning back on because it was so warm and stuffy. We got no response.

Finally, a woman who had asthma had an attack. She was sitting in the seat in front of me and hit my leg when she fell in the aisle of the bus gasping for air. She lost her glasses in the fall. Me, with quite a bit of difficulty because of the cuffs and shackles I was wearing, managed to rescue her glasses before they were trampled in the chaos that ensued.

Luckily, we were on VCCW property and more officers as well as two nurses boarded the bus to assist the woman in distress. The woman was taken off the bus amid a few very vocal complaints from my fellow inmates about our being treated worse than dogs left in a hot car. The driver/officer who had left us on this hot stuffy bus not once, but twice, continued to look indifferent, but turned on the air and left it on. A little later we were finally pulled up behind an old building and taken off the bus, then escorted physically to a basement, mostly because we could barely walk.

I later learned this building was known as Building Two and encompassed medical, a property room, and intake to the facility. The outside was red brick just like buildings Three, Four, Five and Six. Building One was a white structure and was the original prison before it became a money-making "body farm" that could hold 500 inmates. Building One has been condemned and sits in a cul-de-sac below Building Two. They say it’s haunted.

The first warden was Elizabeth Kates. When she arrived in 1931 there were only thirteen inmates. Building Two was also old, and there were tiles on the floors with old, yellowed wax. The walls were concrete, and their paint looked faded. While standing in the main intake room I realized the corner
of the building was separated all the way from floor to ceiling and I could see outside. Overhead were pipes that ran across the ceiling where every so often I could hear water run through them from a toilet or a shower, I assumed. 

After the shackles and restraints were removed we were all drug tested. Then we were taken into a room divided by partitions and pictures were taken of all our tattoos. After that, four of us at a time were stripped naked. We had to squat and cough, lift our breasts, our stomachs, open our hair and run  our fingers through it, show the backs of our ears, open our mouths, and show the bottoms of our feet. This was the second time we had performed the routine; we had done the same thing before we left Fluvanna that morning. I guess one time wasn’t humiliating enough.

Officer Wright was a woman in her fifties. She came in to assist once we were naked. Immediately she acted as if she was in charge. Some were afraid, I’m sure, as she told us how Goochland was a serious place where we could acquire tickets and lose any good time we might earn. She told us we didn’t want to mess up while we were there and on and on about the rules and regulations…while we stood naked. She mentioned several times that we were not at a fashion show as we were issued ill fitting state uniforms. We were told to live with it and stop complaining that something didn’t fit. Too bad!

I came to learn that you had to struggle, fight, and pay to keep halfway decent clothes on your back. Honestly, nothing you wear in Goochland is decent—not even what you pay for. That day of intake I got a shirt that was too small and pants that were too big. It took weeks before a clothing exchange was called where we could exchange those ill-fitting outfits we received on our day of intake.

We Can Choose Our Like Minded Friends, But Not Our God-Chosen Spiritual Kin

Too little has been written, and too little said,
about the scandal of a divided and splintered
body of Christ.

For most of my adult life I have been a member of the Virginia Mennonite Conference, an imperfect but blessed expression of God’s beloved community. For me VMC has not been just another "Gesellschaft," like a social organization, but a living part of a worldwide "Gemeinschaft," a spiritual communion of blood-bought close relatives.

So I grieve when congregations in this or any other God-chosen community of faith choose to separate themselves from others in their extended faith family, their spiritual kin. 

In the words of pastor and author Benjamin Cremer, "The world is not impressed by a church where everyone who is essentially the same is getting along with each other. The world needs to see the church practice what is extremely difficult to accomplish: an incredibly diverse group of people loving and advocating for one another.”

In the U.S. prior to the Civil War, one of the nation's major divisions was between Unionists who wanted to preserve the nation’s "E Pluribus Unum" (“of many, one”), and Secessionists who worked at forming an alternative confederacy of states. 

Today there is a similar divide between "unionists" (lower case) and “separationists” in the church, each believing theirs is the only right position to take in the face of significant differences of faith and practice.

But what message are we sending non-believers and to our children and grandchildren when we simply give up on maintaining long held spiritual ties, and give up on prayerfully seeking to work things out as blood-bought members of “one faith, one baptism, and one body?” 

There are of course clear instructions in the Bible about removing unrepentant individuals from a congregation, but is there any mandate for congregations separating themselves en masse from other whole groups of churches? 

I know of none. Jesus's fervent prayer is "that they all may be one, as I and the Father are one,” so that “the world may know that you are my disciples." It is clear that we are called to become members together of one new, God-chosen body and bride of Christ.

So while we may surgically remove a malignant member who threatens the life and health of the congregation, we should resist any amputation of whole limbs or organs of Christ's body unless it is clearly a matter of spiritual life or death.

We are always to "choose life," and always seek to demonstrate the kind of unity in our life here that we expect to experience in the life hereafter. In this way we become an answer to our Lord's prayer that the redemptive and reconciling will of God “be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

To me, this means we should be "unionists," intentionally expanding our circle of spiritual relationships and adding to the ties that bind us to other faith communities. As "separationists" we tend to subtract from, and further restrict, the circle of spiritual kin with whom we fellowship and work. 

Some may fear that too much focus on becoming “one in the Spirit” might result in a blurring of boundaries that mark a clear difference between light and darkness, between insiders and outsiders.

I agree that congregations should take seriously their responsibility to prayerfully determine, to the best of their ability, what they believe is heaven's judgment regarding what are truly matters of spiritual life or death. In other words, to ask, “What actually excludes people from God's Book of Life and from being a part of the wedding celebration of the Lamb?”

For example, Anabaptist-minded believers might exclude from their communion tables (and even their work tables) congregants who engage in bombing and killing people, who abuse and oppress the least of these, who manufacture and promote harmful drugs or military style weapons, or who "fare sumptuously every day" without regard for the homeless and hungry Lazaruses among them.

At the same time we should seek radical inclusion with all who are committed to “doing justice, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God,” and join in fellowship with those who pledge to "love God with their whole heart, soul, mind and strength,” and to “love their every neighbor as they love themselves.” This kind of agape-based love, by definition, will never do harm to another, even to an enemy, but will reach out to insiders and outsiders alike, just as God does. 

ln the case of insiders Christ’s love takes the form of discipleship. With outsiders, that love is about warm invitation and the sharing good news of God's abundant mercy and amazing grace.  

In short, we humbly bind and loose, separate or embrace, based on our best understanding of what we believe to be the will of heaven, but never separate ourselves from others whom God has joined together and made citizens of the kingdom, or “kin-dom," of heaven.

After all, this is God’s covenant community, not ours. We’re just fortunate to have received God’s gracious invitation to become adopted members of it.

A Highly Paid Parole Board That Rarely Paroles

Charles Zellers, who has been incarcerated since he was
in his twenties, has like many others done everything 
humanly possible to earn their release, but to no avail.

Of the over 2000 parole eligible prisoners in Virginia, the Virginia Parole Board released only two in January and four in February.  I received the following message Friday from my friend Charles, who has been denied parole eleven times, even though when he took an Alford Plea in 1993 he was assured he would obtain an early release if he did well while incarcerated. 

I have been corresponding with him for over a decade, and he is now suffering from a severe case of Long Covid:

I have been incarcerated since January 25, 1993. I have earned my GED, successfully completed training for two vocational trades, and had been employed by Virginia Correctional Enterprises for 14 years until I got Covid. For ten of those years I was a lead man in charge of training and checking the work of other inmates in my department. 

I have been infraction free for decades, have successfully completed every self-help course available and have taken numerous college courses, earning a certificate in business through UVA and the Darden Business School. Now I am needing continuous oxygen and have been transferred to the Deerfield Correctional Center, a DOC facility that houses hundreds of prisoners with serious illnesses and disabilities.

I am wanting to complete my sentence as a parolee in my home community, where I can take care of my aging mother and give back to victims of crime and to the citizens where my crimes were committed.

I am seeking good people who believe in second chances to contact the Virginia Department of Corrections Director, Chadwick Dotson, and tell him that I have been parole eligible since July 30, 2005, but have been repeatedly denied release. 

Why hasn't the DOC prepared me and and others to qualify for release from prison prior to our parole eligibility date? Why aren't they working with me now, and preparing me and others like me to be deemed suitable for release? Why are so many parole eligible inmates still wasting taxpayers money sitting idly in prison?

Please ask DOC Director Dotson, state legislators and members of the Parole Board to advocate for whatever help is needed for people like me to be seen as "corrected" by the Department of Corrections and deserving of a well earned release from prison.

Thank you for your time and efforts, and for acting on your concerns.

Blessings,

Charles E. Zellers, Sr. 1036758
Deerfield Correctional Center

21360 Deerfield Drive

Capron, VA 23829

DOC Director chadwick.dotson@vadoc.virginia.gov 

Virginia Board of Parole https://vpb.virginia.gov/contact/

Governor Youngkin GGY74@Governor.Virginia.Gov 

P. S. Please share this with others.

Note: I posted this in November, 2015: https://harvyoder.blogspot.com/2015/11/model-prisoner-47-denied-parole-seven.html

Gary Wayne Souder: Gentle Giant. Godly Man. Soft-spoken Servant.

Gary Wayne Souder 10/22/48-2/25/24 (photos by niece Denise Showalter Martin)

There were more tears shed and more heartfelt emotions expressed at my friend and former parishioner Gary Souder's memorial service Saturday than I've experienced at similar events honoring esteemed authors, professors, church leaders or well known and wealthy philanthropists. And I've been to many a memorial service in my time. 

In his own quiet and unassuming way, he embodied and lived the text chosen for the service in his memory, I Corinthians 13, the Love Chapter. "Love is patient. Love is kind..." 

Many of those in attendance expressed their deep appreciation for how Gary's life had blessed them. I'm posting but two of the many memories shared, the first by his beloved daughter Kari:

How many people can say they had the best dad in the world? I know of at least 2. I'm not just saying that because Dad was my first love.

Dad was a teacher, not the kind of teacher that would give you the answer. But the kind that listened patiently when you asked a question. Then he would question you and stubbornly wait until you were able to figure it out.

He could turn any experience into a learning moment.  

He was our coach, one who would never consider allowing special privileges just because I was the coach's daughter. Privilege had to be earned. 

He wouldn't let me play football, even though he coached that too. He said I may be tougher than those boys, but a girl's got no business on a football field.

That one stung a bit. But he was probably right. 

Dad was a taxi driver. On Saturdays I would ride my bike to the Morris's farm or the Troung's house in Broadway. After playing all day I wouldn't feel like the uphill ride back, so I let the air out of my tire and called Dad. He acted like he didn't know what I did when he came to get me in his old green ford, the mule. He charged me a nickel though. 

He drove to Bergton to pick Tran and Denise up from camp at Highland so they could make it to their softball game. They being our best players and only hope to win may have had something to do with it.

He would drive to the school on mothers day to pick me up, along with Marcia and Melinda to pick out flowers for our moms. Then if we were lucky, we'd stop at the drugstore for a root beer float before he drove us back to school.

He was a pretty fair medic. Pulling splinters with his old timer or drilling smashed fingernails to relieve the pressure. Merthiolate would fix everything else. 

Sometimes he was my alarm clock, my star chart or encyclopedias, the full set.

Dad was our boss, he gave opportunity to so many kids by offering them work in the honey house. 

He was also a very skilled procrastinator. 

He was my hero. The bravest, strongest smartest man in the world

I'm not sure he could have retained this title with out the strength and support he got from my mom.

He actually changed the world. Just by being himself. He made life a better place for so many people. Around the summer of 86 or 87 he looked around and saw a bunch of bored girls complaining they didn't have anything to do. So what does he do? He starts them a softball team. We were horrible. Really Horrible. But because of him, we never gave up and we had A LOT of fun.

The other teams were jealous. They had to win to get ice cream at JJ's. Win or lose we only had to play our best. 

Dad wasn't able to find a record of anyone who had defined the algebraic expression for the arc of a softball, but of course he had to figure it out. When he tried explaining it to me I made it about a third of the way down the first page before getting totally lost. But he must have gotten something out of it, because he taught a whole lot of Broadway High Gobbler girls how to pitch a softball.

Softball became his passion. When his team didn't have practice or a game he was fixing up the strike zone or working on the field. Softball was life.

He would pile all us kids into the back of his truck after church to go swimming at Long Rock, or camping for the weekend at the Cove. He could identify a tree by its leaf or bird from its song. He cooked us a rattlesnake. He showed us that life is something you do. Give it your best shot and if that doesn't work give it something else until you figure it out.  

This was by a long time friend Tony Brenneman:

I learned to know Gary when I was 12 years old. Gary was captain of the Broadway High football team. My family lived in Broadway, and I would go to all the ball games. Gary was one of my heroes. It was

10 years later that I developed a friendship with Gary. He had gotten an engineering degree at VMI, served at Fort Belvoir, was an electrical engineer, then left his engineering job and started a bee beekeeping business,

Becky and I had just gotten married, and moved to a house about two miles from Gary and Karla's, and it wasn't long before Gary and I developed a close friendship.

I could spend hours telling stories about Gary. He would give hours of volunteer time to many people and organizations. Here at the Zion church, he engineered a significant part of the electrical system, and then spent days doing the labor to get the job done, all as a volunteer. He designed and built the concrete steps in front of the church. He served on the building committee for the front addition. And he was Zion’s moving service for many years. If someone was moving to another home, he would take all the bee hives off his flatbed truck, be the first to show up on moving day, and be the last to leave.

One evening when I was working on building my first home, I was ready to leave. Gary comes driving in about 9 at night, after working bees all day, gets out of the truck and says, "Sorry I'm late!"

You have heard others share many stories about Garys caring spirit.

Gary marched to a different drummer. He was amazingly sharp with mathematics, had a degree in electrical engineering, and had a lot of knowledge in other areas as well, so I often wondered why he chose tending bees instead of holding down a 9 to 5 job with paid vacation, and a higher income.

Gary followed his heart, not the values of this world. The poem written by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken, tells the story of Gary’s life.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And I, sorry I could not travel both,
And both that morning equally lay, 
I kept the first for another day.

I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence, 
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

An Open Letter To Congregations Choosing To Separate From Virginia Mennonite Conference

To me, this association of churches doesn't just represent a
"Gesellschaft," an organization, but a "Gemeinschaft," a
beloved community and spiritual family. 

I've had some weighty conversation  recently with some of my fellow pastors whose congregation are considering severing ties with Virginia Mennonite Conference and Mennonite Church USA. Like believers in many other denominations, they are concerned about issues like congregations and church leaders becoming more open to recognizing monogamous same sex marriages.

In all my years, I've never witnessed an issue so divisive for churches everywhere, now that increasing numbers of gays and lesbians have openly formed such partnerships. I have advocated, without success so far, for our taking as much time as necessary listening to each other and praying and discerning together,  to reach some kind of consensus that could hold us together.

We are all prone to cherry-pick Bible texts that support our positions, but here are a few of my favorite ones on the issue of maintaining unity among God's people:

"How very good and pleasant it is when we live together in unity!"

- Psalm 133:1, a song of ascent

“I pray that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may

be one in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”

“May your will be done here on earth as it is in heaven.” 

- Jesus Christ

“Therefore I, a prisoner for serving the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of your calling, for you

(all) have been called by God. Always be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other,

making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love. Make every effort to keep

yourselves united in the Spirit, binding yourselves together with peace. For there is one body

and one Spirit, just as you have been called to one glorious hope for the future.

There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism,

one God and Father of all,

who is over all, in all, and living through all.”

“Now these are the gifts Christ gave to the church: apostles, prophets, evangelists, and pastors

and teachers. Their responsibility is to equip God’s people to do God’s work and build up the

church, the body of Christ. This will continue until we all come to such unity in our faith and

knowledge of God’s Son that we will be mature in the Lord, measuring up to the full and

complete standard of Christ.”  

-the apostle Paul

In light of all the Bible has to say about maintaining close ties with fellow members of God's chosen and blood-bought spiritual family, couldn't we commit to keep on working out our differences? And shouldn't we keep on affirming the following good words?

We are one in the Spirit 

We are one in the Lord 

And we pray that all unity 

May one day be restored 

And they’ll know we are Christians

By our love, By our love

Yes, they’ll know we are Christians

By our love. 

-Peter Sholtes