By Joseph Wakelee-Lynch

In the California state prison in Vacaville lives a man whose story of a changed heart is unlike almost all others. There, a convicted murderer is studying to be an Episcopal priest, and he may be ordained -- in the jail -- before he gets paroled.

James R. Tramel has been enrolled at the Church Divinity School of the Pacific, the Episcopal seminary in Berkeley, since 1998. His professors frequently praise his work ethic and his probing, disciplined intelligence. One priest who has worked at the prison and the seminary considers him the kind of young scholar who is desperately needed in the church.

In addition to his academic achievement, Tramel displays remarkable leadership inside the California State Prison, Solano. But that same quality is part of the reason his home is a bunk in large room with 100 other incarcerated men. In fact, a leadership decision in August 1985 is why he has been denied parole four times already, and why a future release remains uncertain.

In the summer of 1985, Tramel was a new student at a private military preparatory academy in Santa Barbara. One balmy August night, he led a small group of classmates on a mission of vengeance. They were out to avenge the beating of friends by a gang. Tramel, he says now, was out to prove that he wouldn't back down from the gang. Tramel's group didn't find them, so sometime after midnight, he and his roommate separated from the group. It was then that Tramel's roommate encountered Michael Stephenson, a 29-year-old homeless man, in a park. Before Tramel knew what was going on, the roommate stabbed Stephenson and cut his throat. When Tramel returned to school, he told some of his friends what had happened. They returned to the park to see if Stephenson could be helped, but found him dead. Later, Tramel's classmates reported the crime to the police, and the two were arrested. Because of the heinousness of the crime, Tramel was tried as an adult. Some months later, he and his roommate were convicted of second-degree murder, and Tramel's sentence was the maximum: 15 years to life.

James Tramel doesn't deny or minimize his actions of that night. He believes that he is responsible for Stephenson's death and that he has been fairly punished for his crime, despite the fact that he didn't take Stephenson's life.

"When I was confronted by violence from those gang members," Tramel explains, "I chose to respond in the same way, when there were so many other choices available to me. If I hadn't participated in seeking a confrontation and tried to stand up to them and tried to convince my teen-age friends that I was brave enough to stand up to the gang, I don't think we would have been out there in the first place."

Because Tramel acknowledges his past, he is uncomfortable being described as a new person. But he does believe, as do almost all of those who know him now, that he is a changed person. Tramel attributes it to God's grace. While working with the Rev. Jack Isbell, an Episcopal priest, at a hospice in the California Medical Facility, near Vacaville, in 1993, Tramel found God. Or rather, as he puts it, "God came and found the misfit."

At the hospice, Tramel worked with patients suffering from HIV and cancer. One night, he accompanied a prisoner in his last hours, and the man's questions about God, death and faith forced Tramel finally to confront his own belief and doubts. That night, Tramel came to admit that God truly forgives, if one asks for it. The man died in his arms, but that experience opened a crucial door to Tramel's own questions. Despite his awful actions, he realized, God could forgive and accept him.

Since then, he's immersed himself deeply in the religious community, both in prison and in Berkeley. In prison, Tramel leads a confirmation class for aspiring Anglicans. He leads a small group in bible study and prayer, and preaches and serves as a lay Eucharistic minister at the weekly service. In other words, Tramel provides pastoral care and plays liturgical roles in the jail.

"James manifests leadership within the Christian community there," says the Rev. Mary Morrison, pastoral associate of St. Luke's Episcopal Church in Los Gatos. She has witnessed Tramel's leadership role while celebrating the Eucharist at the prison. In Morrison's eyes, Tramel already conducts a priestly ministry.

"He does a lot of pastoral care for the guys," she says. "He's a good friend to them and a gifted preacher. He gathers a community about him, and he has a lot of charisma."

Tramel's ministry also has been received by the congregation at Good Shepherd Episcopal Church, in Berkeley. Tramel occasionally preaches at Good Shepherd, via speaker phone, and the church's relationship with him is more than a ministry to the incarcerated.

"James is a member of Good Shepherd," says the Rev. Kathleen Van Sickle, vicar at the church, "and we're sponsoring him for ordination."

Through his studies, Tramel has been preparing himself for exactly that. In 1998, he was admitted to CDSP's master of theological studies degree program. He receives books through the mail, checks in with his professors by phone, and he types papers on his prison bunk. This fall, he will finish his M.T.S. thesis, on reconciliation, and he will have completed almost all the requirements needed for ordination, except a stint of field education. Tramel hopes to receive his degree in his hand in May 2003, along with his fellow graduates, in the seminary's St. Margaret's Courtyard. But for that to happen, he'll have to be granted parole.

Tramel has gone before the Board of Prison Terms four times since becoming eligible for parole. The board makes parole recommendations to the governor, and they have yet to rule in his favor. At Tramel's last hearing in October 2000, Edward Stephenson, the father of Michael Stephenson, opposed the prisoner's release, telling the board that prison "is where this Christian missionary prisoner should spend his time."

If the board recommends parole at Tramel's next hearing, currently scheduled for February 2003, his release then will be in the hands of the governor. California's governor, Gray Davis, has paroled only two people convicted of murder since he took office, both women who were abused by spouses.

Although Tramel's imminent release from prison may be uncertain, his eventual ordination appears less so. The Right Reverend William Swing, bishop of the Diocese of California, knows Tramel well and describes him as gifted, well-adjusted, motivated, resilient and smart.

"James is going to be a great priest, because he's really well-rounded," says Swing. "He's going to be a multi-dimensional priest who will have a deep reserve of patience and hope for the folks he serves."

When asked if he is willing to conduct a jailhouse ordination, Swing responds, "Yes, absolutely!" He has written on Tramel's behalf to the Board of Prison Terms, and he believes Tramel has an important call to the priesthood no matter where he lives it out.

"If he gets out, his ministry will really blossom in many areas that are now a closed door to him," says Swing. "If he stays in, he'll have an extremely positive ministry there as a priest of the Episcopal church."

To one of his supporters, however, Tramel's ordination will be an event with significance beyond the jail itself.

"I think it's a statement for the whole church at every level," says Louis Weil, professor of liturgics at CDSP and Tramel's academic advisor. "Basically, it's a wonderful witness to transformation and redemption."

Tramel realizes that his release from prison, despite his eligibility for parole, is uncertain. There was a time, too, when he was unsure about ordination. Not only would some think that a person involved in a murder should never be paroled, Tramel explains, they may also think such a person surely should never be a priest.

"Even I found it impossible," he admits. "But as time went on I couldn't deny the call. I figured if it was what God really wanted of me, then the way for it would be made, and other people would share in affirming that call. And it feels like that has happened.

"Someone said to me one time, 'If a prisoner can't become a priest, then the entire gospel is a lie.' "

-- For more information about James Tramel, and how to contact the Board of Prison Terms on his behalf, visit ParoleJames.org.

Joseph Wakelee-Lynch is a writer and editor in Berkeley, Calif. He also is a contributing writer for The Witness magazine.

 
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