Tom Suss loves his job. A chaplain at McNeil Island prison, he’s been with the state Department of Corrections for more than 15 years. “It’s really a privilege to work there,” the 63-year-old Catholic priest said in a recent interview.

“When there’s the opportunity to facilitate someone’s realization of living differently, of making better choices, there’s just no better high than that.”

But Suss took a voluntary leave of absence at the beginning of the year because a new Corrections Department policy allowing inmates to profess multiple religions has put his faith into conflict with his duties as a state employee.

He can take up to six weeks off and after that he’s not sure what’s going to happen. Though his bosses and peers speak highly of his work, he feels he might have to leave his profession behind.

“I’m thinking my days as a state chaplain might be finished,” he said.

At issue is whether in the state’s efforts to protect inmates’ freedom to worship, Suss should have to compromise his own religious convictions.

Suss’ dilemma raises other questions, too:

What does it mean to belong to a particular faith or tradition? Can you just say, “OK, I’m Jewish now” (or Hindu, or Catholic, or Buddhist, or whatever), or must you be accepted into that faith through certain sacraments and rituals? Is it meaningful to claim you’re both a Catholic, believing in one triune God, and at the same time a pagan, espousing the existence of many gods and goddesses? Who should get to decide?

CAN YOU BE A PAGAN CHRISTIAN?

It used to be difficult for state prison inmates to belong to multiple faiths. The offender had to have written permission from each religion saying it was OK to be a member of both simultaneously.

“For example,” the old policy said, “if a Native American spiritual practitioner is also a practicing Methodist, the documentation must verify that the Native American and Methodist religious authorities agree that it is appropriate for the offender to practice dual faiths.”

That changed Dec. 12, when the Corrections Department started allowing inmates to simply profess to belong to multiple religions simultaneously.

The change was part of a settlement of an inmate’s lawsuit. The inmate had contended the state was violating federal law by prohibiting him from worshiping as both a Native American practitioner and as a Seventh-day Adventist. The department eventually relented, gave the inmate $1,500 and changed its policy.

Not long after, Suss said, an inmate at McNeil Island decided to become both Catholic and Asatru, a movement harkening back to the pre-Christian paganism of Europe and Scandinavia.

For the priest, this presented a dilemma.

“Common sense says you cannot be a pagan Christian,” he said. “As a state chaplain, I must endorse state policy. I have to be willing to endorse this inmate’s freedom to be both religions at the same time, but my own convictions being a Catholic priest don’t allow for a Catholic to be a pagan at the same time.”

At press time, the inmate seeking dual religions had not responded to a letter seeking an interview.

‘LIKE BEING PARTLY PREGNANT’

State Sen. Mike Carrell, R-Lakewood, heard of Suss’ situation and is adding language to an existing prisons bill aimed at protecting the jobs of chaplains whose duties come into conflict with their faith.

The bill also would increase the number of chaplains to offset cuts in recent years.

The new prison policy pits one individual’s First Amendment freedoms to follow the tenets of their beliefs against another’s, Carrell said.

“If we’re going to err on the side of the one or the other, we need to air on the side of the conscience,” he said.

The senator likened the issue to the right of a pharmacist to refuse to dispense the so-called morning after pill because it went against his or her conscience.

Carrell also is concerned that inmates will chose to be members of multiple religions – or even all religions – out of a desire to exploit the system, rather than from sincere conviction. For example, an inmate could profess to be Muslim to get a prayer rug to decorate his cell, or Jewish to have access to Kosher meals.

“I don’t know how somebody can be a pagan and a Catholic,” Carrell said. “That’s like being partly pregnant.”

Gary Friedman, who heads up a committee that advises the Corrections Department on religious matters, agrees. Other chaplains also have expressed concerns with the policy, he said.

“The policy change might seem like something minor to a lay person, but in prison, little things become big things,” said Friedman, who is Jewish and trained as a chaplain.

“How can they be sincere if they don’t follow the dictates of the faith they claim to have a sincere belief in?” Friedman asked. “How can they say they’re Jewish, knowing one can’t self-convert under Jewish law?”

He’s seen inmates convert to Judaism and then contact Jewish organizations seeking money.

Questions about such abuse frequently are raised, but often are overstated, said Roger Severino, a lawyer with The Becket Fund, a Washington, D.C.-based public-interest law firm that defends religious expression.

“The risk is out there, but it’s not that big, and it’s worth it to guarantee the religious expression of those who actually do believe,” he said.

‘A LACK OF RESPECT’

Suss has discussed his quandary with his friends and peers. Some think there’s no big deal. Just because the inmate says he’s both religions doesn’t mean Suss has to believe it’s true.

But beyond his troubled heart, Suss said there are real-world scenarios in which he would be unable to perform his duties.

For example, an inmate might want to buy religious items belonging to the Catholic faith and to another faith that is seemingly incompatible. Normally, inmates are allowed to have only items approved for their tradition – yarmulkes for Jews, prayer rugs for Muslims, crucifixes for Christians and so forth.

“If I stayed, the individual who identified himself as Asatru/Catholic could come in for religious items and if I refused, he could sue me,” Suss said. “And the department would not defend me because I refused to endorse state policy.”

Letting an inmate be more than one religion also fails to prepare him to re-enter society, Suss said.

“Why should we allow them to be in prison what they can’t be on the street?” he asked.

To select a religious preference, all an inmate has to do is fill out a form, Suss said. They’re allowed to change their religion once every six months.

Imagine, he said, what that would mean, for example, to a Jewish inmate, whose forefathers lived through thousands of years of oppression and who lost family members in the Holocaust fighting for the right to merely exist.

“A sacrament, identity or profession of some kind is required by most traditions,” he said. The new policy “shows a lack of respect for religion.”

Rabbi Bruce Kadden of Temple Beth El in Tacoma, agrees with Suss.

“On a religious basis, you’re either Jewish or you’re not,” he said. “I would not work with someone for conversion if they were observing another tradition.”

Kadden noted that in nearly every religious tradition the leaders or community decide who can become members. Converting to Judaism normally requires a sincere commitment and up to a year of study, he said.

CHURCH VS. STATE

The new policy complies with a federal law passed in 2000 called the Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act, said Dick Morgan, assistant deputy secretary for the Corrections Department’s prisons division.

The act broadly says the government can’t restrict an inmate’s exercise of religion unless it has a compelling interest to do so – such as for security reasons.

“We should not be challenging or testing an offender’s sincerity in following any particular religious tenet,” Morgan said.

If a Buddhist inmate on a vegetarian diet were found to have a bag of pork rinds in his cell, the department couldn’t use that to say he wasn’t really a Buddhist, he said.

Morgan pointed out that the department’s policy doesn’t require anyone to perform ecclesiastical duties that run contrary to the tenets of their religion. A Catholic priest, for example, would not have to give communion to an inmate who had not been baptized, thus violating Catholic tradition.

Suss’ dilemma, however, is that he is not only a Catholic priest, but also a state employee with nonreligious duties that might conflict with his religious beliefs.

But, just as the prison must accommodate the inmate, it also should make reasonable accommodations for Suss’ faith, said Severino of the Becket Fund.

“The question is: Does the chaplain have to change his religious expression to fit that of the inmate? The answer is no,” Severino said.

But, at the same time, as a state functionary, Suss can’t deny a prisoner access to his or her desired religious articles.

There may be an easy solution to Suss’ dilemma, Severino said.

“Another clerk could give it to him,” he said. “He doesn’t have a right to get it from a certain person.”

A Corrections Department spokesman said the department is evaluating how to best deal with the questions the new policy raises.

Suss said he’s considered Severino’s fix, but thinks it fails to address the deeper issue.

“We are in an era of legalism, but you cannot legislate morality or truth,” he said.

Ian Demsky: 253-597-8872

Here’s a breakdown of religions within Washington prisons as of September, which is the most recent data available.

Protestant 5,544

None 2,092

Pagan 1,839

Catholic 1,534

Native American 1,252

Islam 1,078

Buddhist 502

No Entry 444

Jewish 412

Seventh-day Adventist 378

Jehovah’s Witness 239

Latter-day Saints (Mormon) 194

International Society for Krishna Consciousness 14

Hindu 10

Rasta 10

Other 9

Christian Science 7

Sikh 5

Unity 4

Satanism 4

Baha’i 3

TOTAL 15,574