A Naming Ceremony in Jail
May You be Blessed
Jana’s maternal grandmother is Jewish, from Poland. Her mother spent her adult life practicing Catholicism, after her husband demanded. Jana’s story is not unlike most of the people I see in jail. Childhood trauma and abuse, lack of education, decades of substance addiction disorders, chronic poverty, hunger, isolation, domestic violence…
Jana and I have met regularly for a year. She shares from her heart about her hopes and fears. I hold space for her, offer pastoral counseling and spiritual friendship. She’s in desperate need of an operation for her failing adrenal system. The doctor hasn’t come to see her in weeks, and according to the jail’s medical clinic, the doctor is unresponsive to their request for his return call. “Maybe he’s on vacation,” they tell her. She’s also waiting to get into a drug treatment program and be assigned permanent supportive housing. She has one friend with an apartment who might let her sleep on the couch, if things fall through with the program she’s hoping for. Otherwise, she tells me she’ll go back to the street.
Jana is a patient rule-follower and a hard worker. She has a job in jail and takes it very seriously. She cleans the module. She sweeps and mops, including inside other people’s cells. She’s in jail because of unpaid fines. Essentially criminalized for being poor and unhoused, with a substance addiction disorder. Because of Covid, there hasn’t been a 12-step program inside the jail in nearly 2 years.
In the meantime, Jana focuses her attention on Jewish study and prayer. She’s a motivated learner, always bringing questions to our sessions. “What does this word mean?” “Tell me more about this holiday.” “Will you bring me more information on this or that?” “How do I pronounce this in Hebrew?” “Where can I find a Jewish temple that will accept me when I get out?” She often asks me to sing for her. She wants to learn the songs and prayers. She sings them all week while she cleans to practice and remember them. But mostly, Jana wants a blessing from me for Shabbat every week. “Not a prayer, I need a blessing,” she tells me every single time I see her.
I ask for specifics because I know she always has something in mind. She says she thinks about this in between our visits as she sings the songs I teach her. “Jana, what would you like to be blessed with this Shabbos?”
May you be blessed with a medical team that cares about your health. May you be blessed with a speedy and successful surgery. May you be blessed with a compassionate judge, who will grant you the exact housing and drug treatment program that you’ve been praying for. May you be blessed with extra warmth while you sleep because the AC must be broken and it’s freezing cold in your module. May you be blessed with someone who will smile at you today because you’re lonely. May you be blessed with a calm deputy who won’t yell so loudly and remind you of your violent father. May you be blessed with a new pencil to write notes in the margins of your books with. The list goes on…
But, one day she asks me to bless her with a new name. A Hebrew name, since her mother never gave her one. And with this request, she tells me her family’s story. Her late mother’s Polish accent was thick, and she called her Yana. Everyone else called her Jana. Yana, her mother would often tell her, like Hannah. “Please name me anything but Hannah.” I hold space for her trauma as she describes the abuse from a stepfather that called her Hannah. I spend the week thinking about a fitting name, one that comes with a blessing. At her core to me, she is a daughter of G-d: Batya.
Mazel tov, Batya! May you be blessed to feel like the divine child that you are, a true daughter of G-d. May you feel a sense of safe parental love.
Jana languished in jail for several years waiting for a judge to grant her into a housing program. She was finally released into a program with supportive services for addiction and mental health. I send her blessings, wherever she may be now…
Batya, may you be blessed with ease and grace. May you be protected and always have enough to eat. May others see the kindness in your heart and be kind to you. And may your love of Judaism continue to feed your soul.
