Tag Archives: Prison

No one should take it personally ’cause that’s too depressing. It’s just policy!

A hermit thing to do is to understand the depth of the world’s rot while looking to Jesus, interceding for His mercy. Not that I do that at all very well, not at all. But it got me to thinking… which is itself a fright!

I’ve not read Aleksandr Isayevich Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago, but I do remember someone citing a comment he made about the worst part of being tortured in the get-worked-to-death-labor-prisons typical of dialectical materialism.

The worst part of being horrifically tortured was not the pain, he said. In his experience — and this is a matter of experience, is it not? — he said that the worst part about the torture was looking into the eyes of the torturer and seeing no conscience whatsoever.

The torturer “was just following orders,” it might be objected, “so, like, just get over that and learn how to deal with the pain and you’ll be O.K.”

But I think Aleksandr got it right, almost. A suppressed conscience means that there’s pretty much no hope at all that a torturer will be saved from such a hell. But if it’s a personal hatred we’re talking about, then there’s hope that the torturer will get over his mistaken understanding. Violent hatred is much easier to take than violent indifference. Those who are close to Jesus really want to see a bit of hope. Of course, there is already hope in knowing that…

“God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him might not perish, but might have eternal life, for God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through Him” (John 3,16-17).

Dum spiro spero. While I breathe, I hope. It’s always personal because we’re personal beings. Even those who have tried to suppress their consciences are still personal beings.

Looking into the eyes of someone with seemingly no conscience is so frightening because we’re looking — all of us — at who we are inasmuch as we have, by our sins, original sin and any personal sin, crucified the Son of the Living God. Now there’s a meditation. But don’t stop there.

Never look to yourself, but, knowing with a bit of humility who you are without grace, look to Him who provides you now with the life of His grace, with the indwelling of the Most Holy Trinity, rejoicing that He has overcome the world and brought us to Himself.

The grip He has on us is very strong, for there are wounds there… still on His risen Body, proclaiming His most tender mercies in all good friendship. Has He not called us His friends. Yes, He has. And that’s a creative act on His part.

He’s just that good, just that kind. Thank you, Jesus!

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A priest who’s willing to be a priest for priests: a priest’s priest

The Dallas Charter would not permit Saint Peter to re-enter ministry since, you know, he was once in prison. Saint Paul was also imprisoned many times. And Jesus was jailed overnight as well. “But they were never accused of abuse!” goes up the cry. Answer: Were you there? Are you so sure no one yelled that just to be obnoxious? Really? It happened to Saint Pio of Pietrelcina. If you think it can’t happen to you, you are living in unreality.

[As seen on These Stone Walls]

Father Gordon,

The very first moment, so to speak, in which we enter the gates of our heavenly Father’s Kingdom — by way of His goodness and kindness — we’ll know that our lives on this earth have been so very terribly short, just exactly long enough to have us dragged into the embrace of Jesus’ Father and ours, brought to be in joyful, humble thanksgiving for our Lord’s providential and permissive will.

In the very next moment – however much we priests were maligned on this earth, marginalized, beaten down, imprisoned –  it is then that we will realize that we are priests forever: Tu es sacerdos in aeternum!

Father Gordon, I very much recognize, from my own experiences of betrayal in the priesthood, your well stated hierarchy of suffering. You say:

“My greatest suffering is not wrongful imprisonment, however, as horrible as that actually is. I hope readers know by now that I have not been languishing in prison beating my own priestly breast in a litany of woe for eighteen years. My far greater suffering is that the Dallas Charter considers prison, even to be wrongfully imprisoned, to be the end of priesthood forever. Any Church bureaucrat who thinks that prison by its very nature marks the end of my priesthood seriously underestimates both me and priesthood. No consistent reader of These Stone Walls could ever draw such a flawed conclusion.

I have to wonder just what the bishops voting for the Dallas Charter will do before the judgment seat of God, when our Heavenly Father will surely recall when His Son, When Jesus Was in Prison, and when Saint Peter was in prison (Acts 12,3 ff), and, as you mentioned in The Conversion of Saint Paul, when Saint Paul bragged of having been imprisoned more than all the others (2 Corinthians 11,23 ff ) due to dangers from — oh my… – ψευδαδέλφοις, from false brothers

As with Saint Paul, there have been some quiet conversions of a tiny handful of those having anything to do with the Dallas Charter. This is, of course, our hope, that no hatred of one’s brother priests is stronger than the solicitous goodness and kindness of Jesus, also for our bishops!

You say that “the wounds of the priesthood must be healed,” and also that the raising of the Sacred Host at the consecration at Mass is very much sacrificial. And I think that it is that sacrifice which will bring about a more rambunctuous conversion of some bishops, who will then have the wherewithal to counter the self-congratulating rhetoric of a Rossetti, or an Arsenault, or a MacCormack. It is for this reason that you are very much the priest’s priest. You’ve certainly shaken up my priesthood, to know what that priesthood is all about. I thank you for that, Father.

You and Marty and others have had very charitable things to say about me, but I beg that such comments be seen with the understanding that I’m someone in the midst of facing a steep learning curve. I don’t deserve to know what you’ve taught me about the priesthood, Father, but in that way you also reflect the goodness and kindness of Jesus, and, again, I thank you for that. Thanks for showing us the Way. Thanks for also being this priest’s priest. I’m sure Father Michael and Father James echo these sentiments, and that such thanksgiving resounds in the hearts of the likes of Ryan and David and so many readers of These Stone Walls. For all of us, tu es sacerdos in aeternum!

Father George

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“When Jesus was in Prison” — My Guest Post on These Stone Walls — now on HSH

Click on the picture to see the article with the comments (Yikes!) over there. I get the idea that one needs a cup of coffee, or two, or three, to read this one. For archival purposes, I include the article below the continue reading button here.

As a way to connect with longtime TSW readers, Father Gordon asked that I include at the beginning of this post (1) a biographical note and (2) a mention as to just how it is that I came to know TSW.

(1) Like all priests, I’m totally unworthy to be a priest. I’ve spent a good chunk of my life in the formation of seminarians and priests. I’ve always wanted to and finally have become a hermit (HolySoulsHermitage), with the desire of offering the hermitage for priests going through the purgatory of this life or the next (About). I look at the hermitage not as a running away, or something esoteric, but as an intensification of active priestly ministry, taking up various all too often ignored aspects of our Lord’s priestly ministry.

(2) Like all priests, I’ve now and again heard of priests who were unjustly accused and wrongly convicted, with my eyes glazing over, my ears turning deaf, my mind clouding up, and my heart becoming heavy. It’s not that I wasn’t outraged. It’s not that I didn’t care. It’s certainly not that I was caving into political correctness. It’s that I wasn’t ready to be in total solidarity. Offering the hermitage for such suffering priests has turned that around, for the Lord takes such things seriously. With Jesus providing grace to this unworthy priest, I would no longer be a corpse in front of a computer screen clicking away from the occasional blog posts about Father Gordon that I would see in the blogosphere. It all hit me of a sudden, like a cross, out of nowhere, smashing me to the ground, a great grace, lifting me up, then, to be a better priest. Now, thanks be to Jesus, I’m in total solidarity. After all, Jesus Himself was in prison.

* * *

Is it possible to rejoice in the love of our risen Lord if there is any one of us who continues to live the prison experience of Jesus back in that first Lent, that first Holy Week, on that first Holy Thursday Night, after the Last Supper, after the singing on the way to Gethsemane, after the betrayal wrought by one of His own Apostles, after the interrogations and mocking and spitting and the beatings in the Sanhedrin?

Those who live in solidarity with those experiencing Jesus’ Holy Thursday Night imprisonment, especially the actual prisoners themselves, are, I believe, more capable than others of rejoicing in the love of the risen Lord Jesus.

Many TSW readers know of Anna Katharina Emmerick Continue reading

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The Most Famous Inmate of These Stone Walls: “When Jesus was in Prison”

When Father Gordon MacRae asked me to do a guest-post on TheseStoneWalls, he was the perfect gentleman. Excuse me for saying this, but I do not know of any other blogger in the world, myself included, who would do what he did with this request. He left the topic up to me and said that I need not send it to him before it appeared on TheseStoneWalls. I’m not used to such good treatment! I’m learning something about being the perfect gentleman from Father Gordon, he always being to me the priest’s priest. I would be proud to be an assistant priest in his parish.

The decision to write on Jesus being in prison was, I have to say, pretty much intantaneous, that is, after getting over what Pornchai Moontri went through when Father Gordon asked him to do a guest-post on TheseStoneWalls:

At first, I was excited about this idea. Then I was given a deadline, and I got nervous. Then nervous turned into dread, and now I just feel very intimidated by the whole thing.

Actually, it was Pornchai’s idea to have guest-writers for the month of May, enabling Father Gordon to have some time to prepare for his upcoming, hopefully glorious, legal battles. So, I blame Pornchai. Father Gordon just short-listed some names. I don’t know who the others are, or what their topics will be. What I do know is that I’m proud to be associated with Father Gordon and TheseStoneWalls.

Outside of TheseStoneWalls, Jesus has been neglected in the entire abuse crisis. That’s how we got into the crisis. Jesus being front and center will be the only way out of the abuse crisis. When Jesus is remembered, all those involved in the crisis will be treated with justice.

Priests who were thrown into prison for the sake of blood-money at their expense (e.g., Father MacRae) need to have their cases reviewed. Until that happens, Jesus is not being remembered, which means that abuse on every level will continue. Mark my words. So…

Let’s begin by remembering that Jesus was imprisoned to set us free:

CLICK: WHEN JESUS WAS A PRISONER

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Here’s Dawn Eden’s Exclusive Guest-Post on HSH (about Saint Maximilian Kolbe, Sexual Abuse, and Creative Love)

St. Maximilian Kolbe: “Only Love Is Creative”

By Dawn Eden

One of the observations I make in my new book My Peace I Give You: Healing Sexual Wounds with the Help of the Saints is that saints are sometimes patrons of particular physical or mental conditions not because they actually had them, but because they had experiences similar to them.

For example, St. Maximilian Kolbe is a patron of recovering drug addicts—not because he ever in his life abused drugs, but because he was killed by a lethal injection from a Nazi “doctor.” Likewise, St. Denis is a patron of migraine sufferers because he suffered the ultimate headache—decapitation.

In that light, I propose certain saints in MyPeace I Give You as patrons for those who suffer from effects of post-traumatic stress — not necessarily because they suffered from it (though many saints, such as the wounded soldier Ignatius of Loyola, may well have) – but because they endured pains familiar to sufferers.

Take St. Thomas Aquinas, who, after an intensely distressing incident in which his brothers tried to force him into a sexual situation with a prostitute, fell to his knees—“weary and frightened, and almost despairing.” He began to pray, and, while praying, fell asleep. To me, as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse who has suffered from flashbacks, Thomas’s experience is very familiar—the adrenaline rush, followed by sadness and a kind of full-body exhaustion as though my life has been sucked out.

Whether or not Thomas actually underwent a flashback is not important; what matters is that he knew how it felt, and so, like a good friend who has been there, he can sympathize with me when I suffer. More than that, I can learn from the way he responded to his trauma. Instead of giving in to despair, he chose to deepen the self-offering he had already made to God, in union with Christ. The example of his life and the support of his prayers give me confidence that there is no suffering of mine that the Lord cannot use to draw me closer to Him.

In a similar way, at times when I have felt trapped by mistakes I have made, St. Maximilian Kolbe’s story and loving intercession strengthen me. It is true that his suffering, unlike mine, came not from his own sins, but rather from the sins of others. Yet, he can sympathize with me because he knows how it feels to be hemmed in. For that reason, he is specially equipped to show me how, in the midst of afflictions, I may yet attain victory through Christ (1 Cor 15:57).

As I write in My Peace I Give You, it was through the intercession of Kolbe, the Polish Franciscan priest who gave his life for a fellow prisoner at Auschwitz, that I first discovered and experienced the love of the Communion of Saints. What struck me most deeply about that “martyr of charity,” then and now, was how, all the while he was incarcerated and brutally treated by the Nazis, he demonstrated a profound sense of freedom.

Kolbe was truly free, because he was free to do good, free to love, free to cling in prayer and devotion to the Immaculata—Our Lady, whose grace spurred him to bring the light of Christ into the darkest places.

One of my favorite stories about St. Maximilian is how, after having volunteered to take the place of a fellow Auschwitz inmate who was condemned to die in a starvation cell, he transformed his environment with his presence. Crammed into a small, dank room with nine other men, deprived of clothes, food, and water, Kolbe convinced his fellow cellmates to join them in prayers, the rosary, and hymns. Nazi guards patrolling the prison, expecting to be confronted with the desperate moans and sobs of dying men, were shocked to find instead that it sounded as though they were in a church.

The ships Pornchai Moontri carved in prison (an Asian custom). The ship on the right is named “St. Maximilian”. Pornchai didn’t know the story about the red and white crowns of martyrdom and purity which Immaculate Mary offered to Father Maximilian when he painted this ship!

A surviving witness—an inmate who had been called to act as translator—later reported that the Nazi guards marveled in wonder at Kolbe. Their ideology had taught them to strive to be godless “supermen,” defining themselves by the brute power with which they could subjugate others. In the naked, starving priest, the Nazis were stunned to discover a true man, one who could face death with a smile because he was dying not for hate, but for love.

During the weeks before his martyrdom, Kolbe gently corrected a fellow prisoner who spoke of hating the Nazis. “Hatred is not a creative force,” he said. “Only love is creative.” St. Maximilian showed that the ultimate creativity is to be joined at the heart with the creative love of God, whose mercies are “new every morning” (Lam 3:22-23).

* * *

We all thank Dawn for making her way to Holy Souls Hermitage in this way.

I asked Dawn to write this post particularly for the imprisoned priest Father Gordon MacRae (whose story on TheseStoneWalls is HERE) and his fellow prisoner, the Catholic convert Pornchai Moontri, whose story is summarized in the following links:

(1) Pornchai’s Story by Pornchai Moontri (This version has his correct prison number)

(2) Pornchai Moontri – The Duty of a Knight – To Dream the Impossible Dream by Pornchai Moontri

(3) Pornchai’s Path to the Narrow Gate by Ryan Anthony MacDonald

(4) The Paradox of Suffering: An Invitation from Saint Maximilian Kolbe by Father Gordon MacRae

Now, I’m sure Dawn would appreciate a comment or two in the combox. It’s always great to have encouragement, especially when writing such a book, which involved Dawn telling her own story of being abused (with zero graphic details, which I think is great!). She’s very brave and generous in cooperating with our Lord in bringing great good out of the great evil she herself suffered. I, for one, think abuse victims have a great deal to offer all of us. Suffering  can be an opportunity to learn much about the friendship our Lord holds out to us.

Be sure to get Dawn’s book. It’s inexpensive a tremendous read.

Dawn’s book is something that will also help to bring the entire abuse crisis full circle.

This is a must read, not only for victims of abuse, not only for those who very often counsel abuse victims (such as priests, who are also very much the intended audience of Dawn), not only for those who know abuse victims, but for all in the Church today. This is the situation we are in and we are all in this together.

Dawn’s book is totally unique. It provides what has never been a part of the solution in the abuse crisis, reverence before the Immaculate Mary’s Son, Jesus, who, by His grace, is so very present in His saints, and who is so very present to all of us.

Whenever Pornchai tells his story, he is loathe not to mention his great mentor and friend and cellmate, Father Gordon MacRae. I, for one, also think that Father Gordon will benefit greatly from Dawn’s book, for although he was not abused as a youngster nor did he ever abuse anyone, he was terribly abused in prison. His being there, falsely accused and wrongly convicted, for now going on 18 years, is like a continuous rape of his very priesthood. It’s got to stop, and it’s got to stop now. Meanwhile, one can learn ever more, every day about the Heart of “the creative love of God, whose mercies are ‘new every morning’ (Lam 3:22-23).” I think Father Gordon will very much love reading Dawn’s book (should Pornchai let him have it)!

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Father Gordon MacRae phones Holy Souls Hermitage. I respond with a letter to… Pornchai Moontri (Mathematics and friendship with Jesus)

Is that the chain of a pectoral cross?!

While out in the forest on the back ridge of Holy Souls Mountain – in the middle of nowhere — I received a telephone call from Father Gordon MacRae. My first impression? What a great family of faith we have! And what’s my impression upon further reflection? What a great family of faith we have! I might have been speaking Saint Paul the Apostle (who often found himself in prison, by the way). What a great priest.

We talked about Continue reading

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