There’s a lot to like about a recent Los Angeles Times feature on jail chaplains.

But there also are strong hints of holy ghosts as well as a few eyebrow-raising word choices. I’ll explain what I mean in a moment.

Let’s start, though, with the positive: This is an in-depth piece that offers a helpful primer on the state of jail chaplaincy in Los Angeles and even quotes experts such as Luke Goodrich of the Becket Fund for Religious Liberty.

The specific Times angle is that some religious groups have enough chaplains — all volunteers — while others, including Jewish and Muslim groups, have a shortage.

The narrative-style lede sets the scene:

There are days when Rabbi Avivah Erlick sits in her car outside Men’s Central Jail, too afraid to go in. She’s counseled hundreds of inmates, but sometimes she arrives downtown only to drive back home, not ready to face the sudden lockdowns, the stale air and the stories about violence and loneliness.

When she does go in, Erlick feels overwhelmingly behind. She used to be a part-time jail chaplain supported by a grant from the Jewish Federation, but it wasn’t renewed. Now she volunteers whenever she can. She spends hours updating her list of inmates to visit, which includes dozens more than she has time to see.

The work is too important to stay away.

“I listen — I’m the only person who does,” she said. “I went into chaplaincy because I feel so drawn to help people in crisis.”

Then comes this generalization:

The chaplains in the Los Angeles County jails, some of whom were once behind bars themselves, are united by a simple mission: remind inmates of their humanity. It’s a job they often do in one-on-one visits. They’ll tell jokes, share a prayer, teach a religious text, or simply listen.

I’m torn on that description of the simple mission: “remind inmates of their humanity.” I suspect a number of the chaplains — particularly the evangelical Christian ones — would be more specific and say their goal is to save the inmates’ souls.

Later in the story, there’s this quote from a sheriff’s department official who works with religious and volunteer services:

“Half our chaplains don’t talk about religion,” he said. “The inmates just want to talk about the pain and suffering they’ve gone through.”

The Times doesn’t develop that idea, but perhaps there’s a more complicated story here in how various chaplains approach their work. Maybe, just maybe, the chaplains aren’t united by a simple mission. Maybe they have different missions depending on their specific religious groups and beliefs.

That weakness in the story is illustrated further by the newspaper’s lack of explanation — or seemingly, even curiosity — as to why certain religious groups have an adequate number of chaplains, while others have a shortage. Could it be that a desire to proselytize comes into play as far as the groups that are more active in the jail?

Yes, there seem to be some holy ghosts in what’s not said in the Times story.

Also, I couldn’t help but wonder how familiar the Times reporter and editors are with the religion beat. For example, consider this statement up high:

In the L.A. County jails, which contain approximately 17,600 inmates, Jewish and Muslim chaplains report a shortage of volunteers and institutional support from their communities, which affects the range of services they can provide. Several chaplains from Christian faiths, like the Protestant church, say that they have a sufficient number of volunteers.

That wording of “Christian faiths, like the Protestant church” struck me as awkward. Are their Christian faiths or many denominations of the Christian faith? Is there a singular thing that would be described as the Protestant church?

Later, there’s this paragraph:

Some of the Christian faiths have much larger pools of volunteers. Frank Mastrolonardo, a protestant chaplain and founder of a nonprofit prison ministry, oversees more than 600 volunteers. He said most come in multiple times a week and that there’s no need to actively recruit.

Again, we have the term “Christian faiths.” And we have Mastrolonardo characterized as a (for some reason, lowercase) “protestant chaplain.” A quick Google reveals that Mastrolonardo’s prison ministry is associated with a large evangelical community church (one whose outspoken pastor has made headlines recently).

Interestingly — and strangely — the word “evangelical” only appears once in this story:

Some religious volunteers’ compassion for inmates comes from their own experience with incarceration. Michael Cherry, who has worked in the L.A. County jails for more than seven years as an evangelical volunteer, found religion when he was an inmate about three decades ago. A chaplain had offered him some biblical scriptures to read, and Cherry was moved by passages that touched on forgiveness and accountability. One from Corinthians read, “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”

Speaking of eyebrow-raising language, did you catch that reference to a passage from Corinthians? But which Corinthians? Quick, somebody ask President Donald Trump.

But seriously, the Scripture quoted is from a pretty famous chapter of the Bible: 1 Corinthians 13. The Times’ lack of specificity gives one pause. Just imagine if Trump did that.

Maybe I’m being overly nitpicky, but amid the Times’ recent staff growth, does anybody know if the paper has considered investing in a full-time Godbeat pro?