Those imprisoned, physically or spiritually, need our help and prayers.
“Remember me . . .” These words recorded in the Gospel of St. Luke (23:42) begin the last prayer of a condemned and dying man—the Good Thief. Addressed to Jesus, who was crucified next to him on Calvary, this prayer was certainly his last, and it may have been his first. But God’s mercy is so rich that with those simple but sincere words, the thief received infinitely more in his conversion than he could ever have stolen in his lifetime.
I couldn’t help but think of these words of Dismas, the Good Thief, as I finished a pastoral visit to the Morgan County Correctional Complex last month. The humble men Father Michael Sweeney, Deacon Norm Amero, Sean Driscoll, Paul Beanblossom, John Cross, and I met that day asked only one thing: to be remembered.
Many movies have been made about the life of Christ, but the 1927 silent film The King of Kings made a great impact on me, especially two of its significant scenes.
The first depicts a group of grieving men and women, mourning Christ as he carries his cross to Calvary. But their mourning suddenly turns to anger, as the two thieves carrying their own crosses behind Christ come into view. In striking contrast to their earlier demeanor, these same people begin hurling both insults and garbage at the thieves.
The second scene shows the grieving mother of Dismas standing beneath the cross of her son. The caption accompanying the image of this silent film has the anguished mother saying, “He was my son.” At these words, Mary leaves her place beneath the cross of Christ, walks over to the woman, and embraces her.
These scenes are a powerful reminder of how we must all be the face of Jesus, not only to those we feel deserve mercy but also to those the world believes are undeserving. We can at times be tempted to act like the unmerciful servant in the Gospel parable who has been forgiven the greater debt but who nonetheless turns on someone who owes a far lesser debt (Matthew 18:23). We can be tempted to ignore the pain of the imprisoned and their families, or we can, like Mary, stand beneath their cross to offer consolation and help. Is this not the heart of the works of mercy?
We mustn’t overlook the fact that many today are imprisoned spiritually by sins that are sometimes far worse than the offenses that have led others to be physically incarcerated. As with the debtor in the parable of the unmerciful servant whose family was also threatened with imprisonment, people’s attachments and addictions can also create a horrible imprisonment for their family members.
Still others, suffering from illness or old age, can experience a kind of physical imprisonment that calls no less for our help. Our works of mercy must be both corporal and spiritual if we are not to neglect any of the forms of imprisonment.
It is also good for us to remember that because of sin, we all deserve punishment. Christ was crucified between two thieves to show us the two ways of responding to God’s mercy. One thief wanted to be taken down from his cross and rejected the Divine Mercy, but the other accepted his place on the cross and embraced what the other had rejected. But how few today take advantage of those healing words of Christ, not unlike those spoken to the Good Thief, which we hear pronounced in the confessional: “Your sins are forgiven.”
I think it is especially profound that before receiving Holy Communion in some Eastern Catholic Churches, everyone repeats aloud the words of the Good Thief: “Remember me, O Lord, in your kingdom . . .”
I am so grateful to those whose works of mercy include visiting the imprisoned. Although many people routinely do so, like those who accompanied me last month during my pastoral visit to the prison in Wartburg, I would also like to thank Father Jim Harvey in Crossville, Deacon Tom McConnell in Chattanooga, and Deacon Mark White in Fairfield Glade for their many years of tirelessly reaching out to the imprisoned and those on death row. Such efforts help to bring Christ to the “upper room” of those living behind barred doors (cf. John 20:19).
I'm so glad to hear that you have continued the tradition of making a pastoral visit to Morgan County Regional. Most people don't realize that there are about thirteen state prisons scattered across Tennessee and, while there were only two of us Catholics at the MCRCF Annex (with perhaps another half a dozen at the main compound) when Bishop Joseph made his first visit some ten years ago, I'll never forget how touched we were when, after one us sent him a chiding invitation to visit the 'Lutheran Stronghold' of Wartburg (in reference to the place from which Martin Luther wrote some of his most stinging anti-Catholic polemics), Bishop Joseph showed up! Of course for many years we had been faithfully ministered to by Frs. Michael Jennings and Sweeney, I think Bishop Joseph was the first Bishop to actually visit the prison (though I could be wrong). Indeed, it may have been as a direct result of his visit that, sometime later, a young man who had previously followed the Islamic faith later joined the Catholic faith.
I'm not sure how folks feel when they visit a prison for the first time. I imagine they are a bit overwhelmed by the layers of security they must pass through and, perhaps, even humiliated when they are patted down (though in these days, passing though the local airport might be even worse!). But an inmate of a prison feels that same pressure and humiliation 24 hours a day; seven days a week; and 365 days a year: some far more than others. Those pastoral visits by the faithful priests, laypeople, and yes, an occasional Bishop offer a time of peace. To spend time with a priest or layperson discussing the readings and gospel can be a very enlightening time for all parties to the discussion. You must remember that the time you normally spend at home with your family, shopping, or just about anything else besides working (most folks probably don't know that the vast majority of inmates have jobs too), an inmate, isolated from his family and most of the worldly things you have become accustomed to: that inmate may well be scouring the Bible, the Writings of the Early Church Fathers; The Catechism, and dozens of other religious texts and writings; not necessarily all Catholic either. So, Taker a chance! Visit a prison. You'll be treated to a unique experience and lively discussion. And know that when you leave, those inmates will hate to see you go and will be thoroughly grateful for the time you sacrificed to bring a bit of the Peace of Christ and yourself to 'the joint'.