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Subject: [FOLKLORE FAMILY] Beneath the Layers of Filth
Date: Mon, 18 Mar 2002 11:52:45 EST

Beneath the Layers of Filth
By Douglas Burgess

Being easily identifiable as a Jew in one of
Michigan's prisons isn't always the smartest thing to do
since it makes the person a perfect target for every bigot
with an attitude. I know. I am an incarcerated Jew who
wears a kippah (skullcap), beard and tallit katan (a small
under-shirt with ritual fringes attached) despite the
inevitable heckling such attire draws.
Several years ago, at a weekly Torah study group, the
prison's chaplain allowed me to lead. A new participant
arrived late - one who I immediately knew wasn't Jewish.
In our little group he stood out like a piglet among
puppies. It wasn't that our group was exclusively Jewish
either. We had men from several other faiths. It was his
closely cropped hair and numerous tattoos displaying
swastikas and other Nazi-like memorabilia that quieted our
group and set him apart from us.
After a moment or two of staring at one another, he
dropped his gaze to the carpet and asked in a barely
audible voice whether or not he could join us for the
evening. To say that I was shocked is an understatement,
but I recovered quickly enough so I didn't gawk at him too
long before rising and inviting him to take a seat across
from me. What followed is something I would never have
expected from within a prison's hard, cold walls.
Although it shames me today, I didn't treat Ron very
well that first night. I could only see the symbols that
had doomed six million of my people to their horrible
deaths. Whether following my lead or through revulsion of
their own, none of the other members tried to engage Ron in
conversation, leaving him very alone in an otherwise
crowded room. The next week was a repetition of the first.
Prior to the third session, Ron asked for a minute of
the group's time.
"By now you're probably wondering why I'm here," Ron
said in his quiet voice, fixing his gaze firmly on the
tabletop. "I'm here to change. I'm here to learn how to
stop hating others...to stop hating myself."
Ron then spent the next half hour pouring out his
heart to us about how he'd grown up in a dysfunctional,
racist family in California, gotten busted for hate-related
burglaries and ended up in some of California's toughest
prisons, where he became a fervent member of the Aryan
Brotherhood. After earning a delayed parole, Ron came to
Michigan to escape his past, only to wind up falling back
into his old patterns of behavior - a decision that led to
his present incarceration. When Ron finished, he looked
up. There were tears flowing down his cheeks. It was at
that point that our group was forever changed.
We spent the first portion of each session over the
next few months working with Ron, challenging his beliefs
and exploring his reasons for wanting to change. It was a
difficult task and one that I frequently thought he'd
abandon. Ron continued to take great emotional and
physical risks to come to terms with the things he'd done.
I knew Ron wasn't the same man I'd first met when he
started walking the yard with me - an act that publicly
shouted Ron's renunciation of hate to those who once
counted him among their bigoted elite. To his credit, Ron
silently withstood his ex-friends' taunts and continued
seeking new ways to improve himself.
Eventually, when our entire group was satisfied that
Ron wasn't pulling some type of elaborate con game, we
pooled our money and paid to have Ron's tattoos covered up
by one of the prison's best illegal artists. We also put
him in touch with several outreach organizations and
convinced him to help others who were blindly stumbling
down his old path.
Ron had come to our group seeking positive change. He
found it. He also became a person I am proud to call a
friend. Ron, however, also changed me. He renewed my
waning belief in mankind's ability to overcome its
senseless hatred - to find its goodness buried beneath
layers of encrusted filth. From this one individual, and
from within an openly hostile environment, dozens have
learned acceptance of that which is different. I will go
to my grave knowing few greater accomplishments.




.·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·.
*: * Richiele * *
*·. .·*
`*·-:¦:-*´
³´`*:»§«:*´`³

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