Prison Humor Builds Faith and Connection Behind Bars

Jeremy Nuckles shares how prison humor can be a rare but powerful force for connection and transformation behind bars.

Humor can be a tricky endeavor in prison. The sound of laughter isn’t often heard, and when it is, it can sound harsh as it hits the ear. But this fact is why, when it does break out, humor can be remarkable. It sets people at ease and can even build bridges. Genuine prison humor can have the power to transform.

An example of this is a prison chaplain who shall remain nameless. I don’t have his permission to share this story. But the man possessed an authentic brand of humor that he wielded sharply and effectively; more so when you weren’t looking for it.

Prison is a violent place. This is a truth that all inside must come to terms with and navigate as best they can. Violence is an acceptable response nowhere else in society. A chapel complex is the one place that violence usually isn’t done, for hard men seem to respect faith.

An Unexpected Lesson in Prison Humor

I was new to attending religious services, as you must be in the upper housing levels in order to attend. Accusations of doing violence are the very thing that kept me in the lower levels. But on the third or fourth occasion to attend the Odhinnist service (I am Asatru), I was called to the chaplain’s office. I asked another of the kindred to shadow my conversation with staff, and we walked into the building and up front to the office. I was nervous simply because it’s the chaplain who delivers the news of a death in your family. I knew of no other reason he would need to see me.

The chaplain greeted me by name and asked me to close the office door behind me. When I asked to be allowed a shadow, he said (at volume, mind you), “This is a house of God! You won’t need a shadow!” The man then bodily removed my shadow and slammed the door himself. Grasping my hand firmly, he put his face very near to my own and again greeted me by name. “And the next time you pass by my office without stopping in to check in and say hello, I’m going to stab you. You got me, tough guy?” He then returned to his desk, adding, “and your shadow can get some, too.”

Building a Connection

I’m not often struck speechless. I consider myself a hard man to shock. I had no idea the man was built as he was, and it floored me. I laughed until there were tears rolling down my cheeks as I went back outside. But that man’s genuineness and humor claimed all of me in that instant. It hit me where I live and gave me a strange kind of faith, in reaching across divides.

The chaplain and I had a couple of conversations after that, but prison doesn’t permit a great deal of fraternization between staff and charges. I don’t know that he even realizes how his words reached me. But I will say that that man’s humor gave me a certainty that was a different type of faith—proof that prison humor can heal and humanize, even in the harshest places.

Want to read more? Check out There Used to be Humor in Prison

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