What is a glimmer?  Or better, what is a glimmer of hope?  You might think of light bouncing off ripples of water maybe.  Or maybe the sound of a child’s laughter.  Or a kiss.  In the unpublished forward to The Great Gatsby, the author wrote “When a lot of people get together in the best places things go glimmering.”  The speaker is an old priest talking to a young child in confession.  Glimmering.  Things go glimmering.

Yesterday in the jail, there was someone to walk me around.  Often, lately, there is nobody, and they don’t want me visiting the dorms without an escort.  They’re worried that one of the prisoners might take a swing at me, since a lot of them are in division 8 because they’re mentally ill.  It’s the hospital part of the jail, you see.

Anyway, yesterday there was someone to walk me around.  We visited one dorm (they call them tiers), and the guys were ok.  In the jail, they have to wear the prison uniform, beige shirt, beige pants, with DOC sprayed on the front and back in black letters.  I think part of the reason they wear those clothes is to identify them if they happen to escape.  I also think part of the reason is that they want to take away some of the “personhood” of the prisoners.  It makes it easier to order them around and control them if you first take away their clothes.

Back to yesterday… the officer walking me around was in a good mood.  His last name (on his uniform) was the name of a famous TV series from the past, and he and I were joking around as we walked down the corridor of the jail toward the tier.  We were on the 5^th floor.  We visited one… he banged on the bulletproof glass and the officer inside unlocked the door.  One of the 2 officers shouted, “Anyone want to see the chaplain?”  The guys lined up and came out one by one.  “Hello,” I said, “what’s your name?”  They told me, then, “What’s your booking number?”  They told me their number.  “How can I help you?”  “Just a prayer, father.”  “Anything in particular to pray for today?”  “Yes, please pray for my mother (or for my court hearing coming up, or for my family, or for whatever).”  I’d make up a short prayer.  “Anything else?”  “Could I have a Daily Bread?”  I’d hand them a book.  “Thank you father.”  Then the next guy would come out.  One by one, as many as wanted to see the chaplain.

So, yesterday I get to the doorway of one of these tiers, and there’s a young guy sticking his face in the slot of the door, he’s so eager to see the chaplain.  There’s a big slot in the door about 2 feet off the floor.  It’s big enough to put a plate of food through it… maybe 6 inches tall by 12 inches wide.  He’s got his face in the slot.  The officer inside opens the door and he comes out.  “What’s your name?”  He tells me.  “What’s your booking number?”  He tells me.  “How can I help you?”  He’s smiling… “Father, can you say a prayer for the whole tier?”  “Sure I can.” He knows the officer who’s walking me around, and he starts joking around with him.  And the other officer standing in the doorway.  There’s a line of guys to see me, and they come out one by one.  I do a little prayer with each of them. They’re all in a good mood.  Joking around with the guards.  Happy.  I’m a little surprised by how happy they seem to be… after all, they’re in jail, and they’re about to spend Christmas in jail.  Joyful.  How can it be?

I finish up seeing the last person, and I’m getting ready to go.  One of the guys I’d seen shouts out across the tier from the back, “Merry Christmas father.”  The rest of them chime in, “Yeah, Merry Christmas father.  Merry Christmas.  Merry Christmas.  Merry Christmas.”  “Merry Christmas guys,” I shout back to them, “Merry Christmas.”  For a second, I saw it.

They were glimmering.  So were the officers.  Merry Christmas to you!