Elaine and the Flies

Quick sketch in jail of drain and fly

You tell me you were arrested on Yom Kippur, charged with elder abuse when your girlfriend collapsed, and you couldn’t catch her weight.

I’m only bearing witness, holding space. I’m not the judge. I cannot know if this is this the full story. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m here with you now.

You’re 72, you tell me in tears. 72. The holy number. You tell me you haven’t been allowed to shower in three weeks. You show me the black biting flies emerging from your sink, black maggots trapped around the drain.

I just coincidentally passed by your cell late Friday afternoon, just before Shabbat, when you called out to me. “Are you a chaplain? I need to see the Jewish chaplain,” you yelled. You tell me you had just said a prayer for my arrival. You tell me you’ve put in 6 requests for the Jewish Chaplain. I haven’t received any of your request. The staff hasn’t yet submitted your requests to me. I am sorry that things move so slowly in jail.

Henini, here I am. I’m here with you, Elaine.

Since you’re being held in the “High Power” module, we’re separated by a steel door with a thick window.

 High Power. 

Who is holding the power here? Where is the Higher Power?

I see the colors of your uniform, signifying your mental health diagnosis. Yellow and blue. The look on your face and your labored breathing tells me you’re scared.

I put my hand up to the glass, and you meet my hand with yours. We lock eyes and you ask for a prayer for protection:

Yiveracha Adonai v’yeshmerecha 

Please, Shekinah, Divine Mother-Energy of Power on High, wrap your loving blanket of light around Elaine. Grace her with a shower, and Shabbos respite.

We talk for a while, and before I leave you ask, “Will you light Shabbos candles for me tonight?” Tears in your eyes. “Of course. Yes, I’ll light candles for you. Good Shabbos, Elaine.” 

We both glance over at the flies coming from your sink. “Wait…What should I do,” you ask me. I am thinking the same thing. The symbols of the fly, the maggot. I am reminded of (Exodus 16:20) Moses’ instruction to his people to care for their food, only to find maggots have infested it by the morning. Manna into maggots. I notice a feeling of righteous anger rising inside of me, but I take a breath and slip you an official carbon copy complaint form because you’re entitled to report your unsanitary and unsafe environment. 

You keep the green copy and I drop the white and pink copies into the complaint box on my way out. I pray this form will make its way to someone compassionate.

I notice a desire within me for abolition, or at the very least to remedy illegal and inhumane conditions of confinement in carceral settings, but today I am only here to bear witness and hold space. My role today is of pastoral counselor and spiritual support; I am not here to fix. I keep breathing.

On my way out, I smile at the deputies behind the desk. “Have a nice weekend,” I say out loud. I offer a silent blessing for their souls and whisper a prayer for abolition.

The steel door slams hard behind me echoing throughout the concrete hallway.