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Jews Behind Bars

Jewish prisoners face unique challenges, including anti-Semitism
and difficulty obtaining kosher food.

Ronelle Grier I Contributing Writer

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 1

note to the cashier asking her to empty the
cash register.
"That [the robbery] was the most desper-
ate thing I did in my life; it was the lowest
point in my life he said.
He was apprehended a few miles away and
charged with unarmed robbery, resulting in
another prison sentence, this time for three
years. During that time, he was diagnosed
with bipolar disorder and given psychiatric
drugs, which stabilized his mental state.
When he was released, he stayed away from
alcohol and drugs until an injury required
a trip to the hospital, where he was given a
strong narcotic.
"For the next 15 months, I was constantly
fighting an opiate addiction:' he said.
Eventually he lost the fight and ended
up charging $180,000 at local retail stores
using false accounts created with illegally
obtained Social Security numbers and forged
driver's licenses. In one escapade, he posed
as the husband of a Haitian woman whose
family had been devastated by a hurricane.
A sympathetic store clerk helped him select
and charge thousands of dollars' worth of
designer jeans, clothing and accessories for
the "victims:'
This final spree earned Sherman a two-
year prison sentence, which he maintains
was his last experience behind bars. Living
on the edge had lost its thrill.
"It was quite a rush at first:' he said, "but
the last two years in prison definitely cured
that rush:'
Today Sherman, 48, is living in a group
home sponsored by the Jewish mental health
agency Kadima in Southfield. A talented
amateur artist, he teaches an art class for
fellow clients, bakes challah from scratch
for weekly Shabbat dinners and performs
other work as needed. He takes prescribed
medication and attends group and individual
therapy sessions as well as 12-step meetings.
The terms of his parole require him to wear
an electronic tether, which is scheduled to be
removed next month.
"I have issues, and I'm fully aware of them,
and they're under control as long as I moni-
tor them:' he said. "Now I take the time to
figure everything out instead of acting on
impulse:'
Sherman has made peace with his par-
ents and is building a relationship with his
daughter, a college student who lives with his
ex-wife in another state.

Evan Sherman says, "I figured if they could wear their swastikas and other hate
stuff, then I can fly my colors." One tattoo is of his mother's Hebrew name.

"I've been gone since she was 4:' he said,
"but we talk frequently now It's nice:'
The biggest challenge for Sherman, and
for many ex-convicts, is finding a job. Most
employment applications ask whether the
applicant has ever been convicted of a felony,
and an affirmative answer can be a deal-
breaker.
"It's depressing; Sherman said. "You have
to stay positive. You have a flawless inter-
view and then you see the application with
that felony question. I'm not looking for a
handout or someone to do things for me — I
want to work — I just need somebody to
give me a break:'

Judaism Behind Bars
According to Rabbi Menachem Mendel
Katz of the Florida-based Aleph Institute,
which provides programs and support for
Jewish prisoners and their families, there
are approximately 4,000
Jewish inmates in the
United States, compris-
ing about 1.5 percent of
the total prison popula-
tion of 1.9 million. The
numbers reported by
corrections facilities are
Rabbi Katz
higher because no docu-
mentation is required to
select Judaism as a religious preference, and

prisoners are allowed to change their reli-
gious designation every six months. A desire
for kosher food is a major reason why large
numbers of prisoners, many with no Jewish
lineage, choose Judaism as their religion of
record.
While Sherman did not follow a kosher
diet in prison, he led Friday night services,
which included ritual hand washing, reciting
the Shema and other prayers, discussing the
weekly Torah portion and saying Kaddish.
"We also collected tzedakah," he said.
"People who didn't have cash would donate
bars of soap or tubes of toothpaste to give to
new inmates:'
Sherman said many of the attendees were
what he called "posers," non-Jews who chose
to participate. For the Jewish inmates, who
often resided in different cell blocks, it was
the only opportunity to get together.
Rabbi David Nelson of Congregation Beth
Shalom in Oak Park is a prison chaplain who
serves on the Chaplain Advisory Committee
of the Michigan Department of Corrections
and was a member of the Executive
Clemency Advisory Council created by Gov.
Jennifer Granholm. He has made countless
prison trips over the years, conducting ser-
vices, leading seders and study groups, and
providing spiritual guidance.
"Judaism becomes more important when
people are incarcerated," Nelson said. "They
want to spend their time in a meaningful
way. I've seen progress; they take it seriously
... and continue to do well after they get out:'
Sherman said it was comforting to be with
other Jews in prison, a way of holding onto
something from his former life.
"I get a lot of letters from people who are
interested in Judaism, searching for some-
thing," said Rabbi Marla Hornsten of Temple
Israel in West Bloomfield.
She feels it is important to stay in touch
with those inmates who want to maintain an
ongoing connection.
"It's very meaningful for them to know
people are thinking about them while they
are working toward for-
giveness and repentance'
she said.
Visiting can be difficult
for clergy, depending on
the facility, and sending
books and other resources
is even harder.
"It's easier for a lawyer
Rabbi
to visit a client than it
Blumstein
is for a clergy to visit a

Jews Behind Bars on page 10

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March 6 • 2014

JN

