7th
Sunday of Easter; Yr. C, May 12, 2013
Acts 16:16-34; Psalm 97;
Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21; John 17:20-26
Sermon
preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church
Most of you know that I
used to live in the Adirondacks. When
you think of the Adirondack Mountains, I bet you think first of the natural
beauty there, and the access to lakes and trails that enable so many to enjoy
the outdoors. You might think about
snowmobiling or ski slopes or ice skating on frozen ponds. Perhaps you even remember the winter Olympics
that took place in Lake Placid, most recently in 1980. I think of those things too, but every once
in a while I remember something else. I
remember the many prisons there.
Between Saranac Lake
and Lake Placid there are two prisons, one federal and one state. In the small town of Gabriels, not far away,
there was another one. It’s now
closed. In Malone, about 30 minutes away
from where we lived, there were three more. According to Wikipedia,“All three prisons [in Malone], along with
other upstate facilities, provide employment in an otherwise depressed economic
area of the state.” Our neighbor was
a prison guard, so were a lot of other people.
When I lived there, the town I taught in was actually competing for a
new prison as a way to grow their economy.
They needed a new industry to fuel that growth. They needed jobs. A new prison could mean at least 200 new
jobs. A new prison could mean money for
the town.
In the story we heard
from Acts, Paul exorcises a demon from a woman who has been following them for
days. She was a fortune teller, and had
been telling everyone that Paul and his disciples were Godly men proclaiming a
way to salvation. She was actually free
advertising for that early Christian road show … telling people what they could
expect to see … telling them to listen to Paul and his friends. She was a living, breathing billboard, of
sorts! But her constant cries were getting
a little annoying to Paul, so in the name of Jesus he orders the demon to leave
her, and it does. But within the hour
she loses her ability to tell fortunes.
People paid to have their
futures revealed. The woman was a slave,
owned by men who made money as long as she remained possessed. When Paul frees her from the demon, the men aren’t
thankful. They’re not relieved. They’re not happy for her. They’re angry. They attack Paul and his companions, saying “These men are disturbing our city”. They’re angry because they can no longer make
money off of this suddenly sane slave.
In their eyes, she has lost her value because her spirit is free. Her captors had no reason to encourage the
demon’s departure. Freeing her cost them their livelihood. It cost them their jobs.
The
Adirondack Correctional Facility started as the Ray Brook Sanatorium, the first state-operated tuberculosis sanatorium, starting in
1904. Although medical developments made sanitoria obsolete starting in the
mid-1950s, the State Sanatorium at Ray Brook continued to operate until the
mid-1960s. The property was transferred from the Department of Health to the
new Drug Addiction Control Commission, combining enforcement and treatment; in
1971 the new facility opened as the Ray Brook Rehabilitation Center, housing 70
to 130 female addicts. However, it was judged a failure, and closed within five
years. It was succeeded by a camp program for adult inmates, "Camp Adirondack". Working with
the Department of
Environmental Conservation, "campmen", as inmates were
known, were employed in logging, sawmill, wildlife preservation, construction
of campsites and snowmobile and cross-country ski trails, and construction of a
toboggan run at the Mount Pisgah ski area. The camp also constructed the Ice
Palace each winter for the Saranac Lake Winter Carnival. As far as I know, they still do.
With
the selection of Lake Placid for the 1980 Winter
Olympics the inmates worked on the Olympic trails at Mount Van
Hoevenburg. The camp facilities were used for Olympic staff housing, which led
to renovation of the water treatment plant, sewage system, housing and food
service areas. During the games, the inmates were relocated to other prison
facilities in the state, and were replaced by 900 State Police and 300 U.S.
Customs Bureau personnel, National Guard and security forces of foreign
governments who provided security for the Games. An area of 200 acres
(81 ha) of the facility was used as the site for the Olympic Village;
after the games it became a new federal prison, the Federal
Correctional Institution, [at] Ray Brook.
Pretty cool.
300 inmates returned to a newly renovated facility. The Olympics provided an opportunity for the
town to upgrade the prison. A creative
idea. Some in the area felt the
prisoners didn’t deserve such nice facilities.
But listen to this. The newly improved facilities allowed a
substantial increase in the prison population, which led to the erection of the
first security fence around the perimeter of the complex. In 1981, Camp
Adirondack was designated a medium-security facility and renamed the Adirondack
Correctional Facility.[1] The
latest figure I found notes the current prison population at over 700. The inmates do a lot of good for the
area. The prison provides jobs. Is there any real economic reason for the
prison to close, or for the town to push for prison reform that might decrease
recidivism and the need for prisons? My
guess is “no”. I would venture to guess
that as long as crime rates in the area remain low and the prisoners continue
to benefit the towns nearby, they will be perfectly happy to have every bed
filled, and overfilled. That’s probably true
in almost any town or village that has a prison. Is it any wonder that towns compete for
them? We have made prisons profitable. So,
I guess it’s no surprise that Tupper Lake wanted one in their town.
There’s
something wrong with a system that has municipalities vying for new
prisons. Should prisons be viewed as
economic assets for communities? I keep
thinking about the fortune telling slave, about the demon that possessed her …
about the owners who were comfortable using her situation for their own profit. Is that what we’re doing with our prison
system? If it is, we’re walking a very
fine line. Once the prison becomes an
asset in a community, what
would motivate us to help keep people out of them? Filling, and overfilling, those beds lines
our own pockets. Fewer prisoners, mean
fewer prisons. What town that relies on
one would want it to close?
Ideally, shouldn’t our communities be in the
business of working our way out of that business, of making prisons unnecessary
and obsolete? Should we be supporting
with our voices and dollars things like, non-violence programs, early childhood education, compassionate
communication, parent support opportunities, mental health services, but
instead those projects often hit the chopping block first when it comes time to
trim a budget. Are we a little like those
slave owners when it comes to prisons?
It was a surprise when a small vocal group
of people in Tupper expressed concern about the idea of a new prison coming to
their town. Sure, the town would see an
increase in employment. They’d have to
actually build the prison. There’d be some construction jobs there, but only
for a short while. They’d have to staff
the prison. Those jobs would be more permanent … but unless there were plans to
expand the prison down the road … that’s about all they could really expect to
gain from it as far as increased employment.
That small group began to publicly oppose the prison idea. They wanted
to consider alternatives, ones that could benefit more people, build a more
positive image for the community, one that didn’t require more and more people
to make bad choices in order to bring economic stability back to the town. Their ideas disturbed some people in the
town.
That kind of plan would take more time to
gain support. It would take more time to
raise money. It would mean that the
community would have to find and work with partners and be patient. But in the long run, it could be grounded on the
region’s strength, not on its desperation.
It could lay the groundwork for building a stronger economy for everyone,
not put a nad aid on their economic woes.
So they planned, and worked together in the
midst of a lot of doubters. They acquired
31 acres of land, some along a scenic river, some being what people considered
unusable wetland. They moved dirt, and
pooled water and started to build, and gathered more support from the community
as things began to really take shape. That
wetland is now home to the Wild Center, a natural history museum in the
Adirondacks. Their mission is to “Ignite an enduring passion for the Adirondacks where
people and nature can thrive together and set an example for the world”. It’s an amazing place! The museum brings people to Tupper Lake, and
grocery stores and hotels and outfitters and ice cream stands and restaurants
and schools and lots of other businesses can profit because it’s there. And best of all, it’s a business they feel
proud to have in their midst. It builds
community.
We
have economic choices before us all the time.
Those choices matter. Those
choices we make as a society display our priorities to everyone around us. As the effects of our national budget
“sequester” become more and more apparent, our representatives will be making
decisions for us. It’s already
starting. In tenuous economic times it
is tempting to do the quick and easy thing, in a sense to choose to build
prisons instead of focusing on how to build real community … to focus on
problems instead of looking at possibilities.
We are a resurrection people, a people of hope. We all have a voice in what happens. We believe in the dignity of every human being,
and we are called to act on it. How can
we speak up? How can I? How can you?
Amen.
[1] All information about the Adirondack
Correctional Facility, are taken from an article on Wikipedia at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adirondack_Correctional_Facility.
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