CNSMexico_01_25

RIOT POLICE — Riot police officers arrive at a high-security prison near Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, in 2010 after a fight among inmates. Local seminarians and a chaplain regularly visit the prison but say they miss ministering there when security is tightened after gang fights. (CNS /Gael Gonzalez, Reuters)

Prison, street programs help train seminarians in violent Mexican city

By Joseph J. Kolb

Catholic News Service

CIUDAD JUAREZ, Mexico (CNS) -- For several students at the Ciudad Juarez seminary, classes in theology and philosophy are integrated with experiences to prepare them for church work in this violent city.

Every Sunday, Genaro Montes, 25, a third-year seminarian, travels with Rev. Alberto Mellandez, prison chaplain, to the notorious state prison on the edge of Juarez. Montes assists at mass and with Scripture readings. Fifth-year seminarians Francisco Laoiza, 25; and Jesus Mendoza, 24, preceded Montes.

Participation in the assignment is strictly voluntary. The seminarians say they are never told what the inmates are incarcerated for, but they know many are there because of the nearly 12,000 murders the city has experienced over the past four years, as well as for crimes involving narcotics, extortion, child abuse, battery and burglaries.

"We can't ask, but sometimes they tell us what they are in for," said Montes, a burly, soft-spoken man. "Many are ashamed they are in jail because they were forced to do things they didn't want to do."

The challenge of any religious group working in Ciudad Juarez is how to break the cycle of violence that many young people feel equals money, which equals power.

"We are trying to teach the opposite, the love of God, church and life," Laoiza said.

The trio is not naive about what is occurring outside the walls of their seminary, and the prison ministry brings it into vivid focus.

"Life here is very complicated," Mendoza said. "The violence has gone so far."

Life in the prison reflects life on the streets. At the core of life here are the population subsets mostly made up of the Artistas Asesinos, Aztecas and Mexicles gangs, all very active and violent with connections to the streets. In late July, four gunmen entered the jail with automatic weapons and sprayed a cell block, killing 17 in a gang-style execution.

"Our problem is not being in the prison, it is when the gangs get together and this happens," Montes said. "It is frustrating not being able to work with the men any longer; they are the ones who need it the most."

Since the massacre, the seminarians have not been permitted to return to the men's unit for security reasons, but they still minister to the women.

Whether working with the men or women inmates, work in the prison is cyclical, with the seminarians rarely seeing the same group of 10-20 inmates, who range from 18 to 50 years old.

"Every time we go, we redo the work with new people, but that's all right," Montes said. "Professing the faith is a process -- do something now for something better in the future."

After the weekly mass the seminarians are available for visits with inmates who have no family coming to see them. They see this as an opportunity to reach out to the inmates on a more personal level to just talk, develop trust and bolster the prisoners' faith. They hope the expression of compassion and understanding will help with the inmate's rehabilitation.

Luis Maldonado, 26, a seventh-year seminarian, has not volunteered at the prison, but his street ministry is intended to help keep young people out of detention.

He knows all too well the "marginalization of youngsters," many of whom drop out of school by middle school and get caught up with cartel-sponsored street gangs. Maldonado has seen the violence firsthand.

Recently, a 19-year-old confirmation co-ordinator from his home parish was shot in the head and chest.

"One of my friends had a business and members of the Juarez Cartel asked him for a quota -- extortion. He said he didn't want to do it, so they told him in order for them to leave him alone, he would have to transport drugs, be a get-away driver for a murder, and kill someone himself," Maldonado said. "He did all three things, and now he is safe."